Depending on the Material Blue
by KenderickBlazey
Summary: You weren't having quite the best day of your life; however, being kidnapped by what seems to be a cupcake-obsessed madman probably wasn't your idea of making things better. Now, you have to do everything you can to get through the challenges he has set you in order to get through alive. Question is, will you be able to get through them? Readerx2P!England.
1. Chapter 1

**2P!EnglandxReader: Depending On the Material Blue **

**A fanfic by Sockseevil**

Saying that today had been anything but a bad day would have been a complete and utter lie.

Infact, today had been so incredibly disastrous that you actually felt like falling to the earth and sobbing your eyes out. But instead, you mentally ranted while pacing further and further through the desolate streets that surrounded you. Balling your fists as mental images of the day's rather horrible came back to you in pictures, like snapshots from a paparazzi camera, you stomped around aimlessly, not caring who or what heard you.

The worst part of it all was that you had no idea where you were going. You had never been to this town before, and honestly, never wished to in the first place. You found the area crappy, with cheaply built apartments littering what had probably been a fairly pretty area of countryside countless years ago. Perhaps you'd be forced to catch a cab on the way back home? Unlikely, as by digging your hands into your pockets, you find a lack of change.

_Fabulous. _You sigh, wondering how the hell you we're going to get back. Perhaps you could try and negotiate so that you could pay the taxi fare once you got home? It seemed reasonable enough.

Slumping your shoulders, you give a harsh sigh. You have no idea how long you are to wait for a taxi,and where to wait for one, however, the street that is facing you seems to have a bus stop. It seems most likely of all places for a taxi to stop there, so you decide to stay there.

As time passes, you suddenly start feeling a few cold chills. This place is so desolate, giving the impression that nobody's lived around here for a while. Well, that's certainly not the actual case from the apartments; but the fact that there seems to no signs of life, not even the odd car passing by, mystifies you. You cross your arm across your body to touch the other as you try and calm your nerves. From a young age, you had always been taught that the true monsters were people, and the supernatural had never really held you.

Still, you couldn't help but to almost jump as you heard the practically chilling scraping of metal, all too close by.

** ***_**SCREECH**_** ***

With a shuddered breath, you took a look behind, to the left. There was a small park that had been built. It had seemed so fitting for the cheap and crummy landscape that your previously anger-filled brain had simply dismissed it. Now, you noticed that there was a play park, much to the likeness of the ones that you had attended when you had been a toddler, not too far away. As the screeching continued, you tried to locate the source of the noise.

However, the noise located you before you even had a chance.

The horrid sound stopped as you noticed a rusted swing stop its motion. The rider seemed most unusual, even from where you were standing. His attire stood out like a sore thumb, probably because of the fact that he was wearing a cheerful, pink vest with a lighter dress shirt underneath. You couldn't quite make out his expression, but something about him unnerved you still.

You both stood still for what seemed to be like an eternity on a nauseous sleeping pill. Not sure of what to do, you just stood there and watched, keeping the arm that was already across your torso still, almost as if you were looking for protection. He slowly began to take steps towards you, a clearly distinguishable grin plastering on his face (much to the likeness of the Grinch that stole Christmas). It was only then you noticed that his cuffs just happened to be patched with what seemed to be crimson liquid.

This was just too damn weird. With a strange numbness from the shock of the situation, you took off towards the park, not even bothering to look back at his reaction. Whoever the hell he was, he did not seem like anybody normal, especially with goodness knew what he was wearing (had that been blood on his sleeves? You didn't even want to think about it). And in any way, you figured that staying away from him was probably a good idea.

Regardless of whether you have been followed in, you figured that it'd probably be harder for him to find you in the park spindle, and concentrated on finding a place to hide. Soon enough, you were surrounded by a ton of forestland, which due to the fact that it was already becoming quite dark out meant that you were finding yourself even more lost than before.

Dropping your pace down to a more casual walk, you tried to make sense of the shrubs and trees around. Which was a task that was impossible, due to everything looking so similar and your lack of navigation. However, scared as you were, you still wandered around, more terrified than anything. You weren't certain if that weird guy was around or not, or if there were more people in here. A very large part of you wanted to be home right now, sipping a cup of your favorite, warm drink and comfortably wrapped around a blanket by a fireplace. Or, well, anywhere but this deleted scene from some dodgy horror flick.

You were so engrossed in taking in what was around you that you didn't notice the rather large set of iron jaws on the forest floor. Nor did you really notice them until you tripped over the hunting-trap itself, its jaws sinking into the flesh of your calf. You yelled out as searing pain raced through you, falling to the floor from the hurt. You tried to desperately wriggle away, but the trap latched on still with an unforgiving bite. It took you a while to stop screaming and get accustomed to the pain, sobbing involuntarily all the while.

When you finally found yourself in a less dramatic state, you shakily lifted your torso off of the ground to inspect the damage. Much to your surprise, it wasn't as bad as it felt. Yes, the jaws of the trap had viciously bitten into the skin of your leg, but it had hardly dug in. More or less gripping into the skin than anything else, and although you probably weren't going to be mobile for the next hour or so. with a bit of first-aid, you weren't going to be all too seriously hurt. Slowly, you gripped the sides of the clamp, and attempted to pull them away from the back of your leg.

"Seems that you've managed to get yourself caught in my trap, haven't you, poppet?"

You wanted to scream, but when your jaw dropped open, no sound came out. Throat dry from your pained screams from before, you twist your midsection to the direction of the speech.

"You shouldn't have ran away. That's awfully rude, you know."

It's him. The creepy man from before. His piercing eyes glare straight into you as a manic grin spreads across his cheeks, the freakish luminous-pink starbursting with the baby blue scanning your body in the same way a predator looks over prey. He almost skips over, and stands over you for a few minutes before bending down. "You're being awfully quiet, dear. Do tell me your name."

This was all too much for you. Instead, you look away as hot tears keep trickling down your heated cheeks, partially from the pain, and partially from the embarrassment of being in a situation such as this, trapped like a rat. He had declared this to be of his work. Had he intended for... People to accidentally fall into this situation? How could anyone be as sick and horrible as to even think of doing that?

"Shush, no need to cry." You feel his hand gently wipe at your face to remove your tears. Surprised, shocked and horrified, you flinch away with a cry for help. He puts his hands on his hips and smiles yet again. "Why are you calling out for help, poppet? I'm here, aren't I? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. If you'll let me. You will, won't you?"

Gritting your teeth, you cross your arms over your body, creating a protective shield. There was no way in hell you were going to let him 'take care of you'. Goodness gracious, if this man had decided to set up animal traps for catching people, you didn't even want to know what he'd classify as 'taking care'. However, he seems to ignore your glares, and instead, takes out a small, white paper package from his pocket. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he slowly produces a... Cupcake from inside.

_What... The hell?_

"Eat up, sweetie." He nods with a devilish smirk, placing the treat with blue and pink frosting onto your chest. "Cupcakes make everything feel better, you know."

There was no way in hell that the stupid cake was going anywhere near your lips. You furrow your brows and practically snarl at him. "Get away from me, fucking creep!"

He looks genuinely shocked for a brief moment, and then tuts. "You really shouldn't swear, it isn't polite at all." His hand slowly traces down to where the now slightly blood covered clamp happens to be. You catch sight of him doing this, and your eyes meet for a split second. He gives you a dastardly smirk before laying his hand over the trap, and pushing the sides of it further into your calf. A new pain hits you, causing you to flop back onto the floor. You hear an amused chuckle emanate from him, and try to control your cries, taking deep breaths, in and out.

He leans over you, the mad look of excited amusement draped upon his freckled cheeks. One hand still of the jaws, almost a threat, while the other quickly cups under your chin. You are forced to look into his two-toned eyes, before he brings his mouth to your ear. "Go on, take a bite. It won't hurt. Honest."

Whimpering, you give a pained nod as he gives a light, threatening squeeze with the clamp. Much to his amusement, you pick up the confectionery off your chest, and slowly bring it to your mouth. At least it doesn't look too bad, smells a bit funny, but your choices are slightly more than limited. With your common sense practically screaming in protest, you take a bite out of the cake.

_...Oh._

"What do you think, love?"

You're not sure what to say. The cake isn't all too bad. One might have said that it even tasted quite nice. But you didn't quite want to let him know that, so you settle for a small nod. "S'okay."

This oddly seemed to be enough of a compliment for him, as he then let out a gleeful giggle. "Glad to know! I put in one or two _special ingredients_, just to make them even more of a _delight._"

You nearly spit the cake out. What the hell did he mean by 'special ingredients'? Why had he brought such emphasis to the words? Whatever it was, you were put off almost immediately. However, from his earnest stare and the fact that he still hand his palm over the metal hinges, you felt more than obliged to finish the damned cake. As much as you didn't want to say that it tasted remotely good, your taste buds couldn't help but to practically tingle as the tantalizing, fluffy confectionery went into your mouth.

You finished it off, involuntarily licking your lips and then giving him a somewhat frightened look. From his eager expression, he seems to be waiting for something, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to ask what. You suddenly feel the urge to yawn, but you quickly bite it back. Not only was it rude, but you didn't want to show this man any weakness. However, the adrenaline that had been coursing through you while you had been running away was now slowing down in flow. You felt your breathing get gradually heavier, urging another sign of ennui to come on.

Your eyes widen as you feel his hands move across to the sides of your calf, and with a click, pull the trap off. Your instincts tell you to make a run for it, to get away as quickly as possible; but a sudden lightheadedness keeps you still on the ground, with a rabbit-in-headlights look on your face. No, this was wrong! You shouldn't just be staying here! You attempt to sluggishly pull yourself to your feet, but to no avail. Both the sudden dizziness and the pain of the open cuts on your leg keep you stumbling around, and finally grabbing hold of a tree nearby for support.

"You're looking terribly tired, poppet. I think it's time for you to take a small nap."

Stomach churning, you finally realise why you're feeling so sleepy. The cupcake must've been drugged.

_No, no, no! I can't fall asleep! I'm not going to! He could do... Whatever to me! _

"No..." You gasp, eyelids drooping. "I... I'm fine!"

He takes a few calm steps toward you. Your eyelids are practically aching from you forcing them wide open.

"_Shhhh..._Don't fight it..."

_No!_

"_Just let..._"

You bite down hard on your lip to try and stop the numbness somehow.

"_Yourself..._"

You stare at the ground, shakily clutching your arms around your body.

"_Fall..._"

Your knees suddenly buckle, giving way.

"_**Asleep.**_"

The world is black before your touch the ground.

**(TBC...)**

**A/N:**

**...  
**

**Why did I write this, again? Oh yes! 2p! obsessed friend wanted me to write up something, and here I am.  
**

**Le sigh. I cannot write 2P! To save my life, but she seemed to like it, as did a few people on dA (and my current co authoress, NudgeRide. She's on dA. Go check her out), so I am indeed continuing this.  
**

**Like it? Hate my guts? Please review and tell me your thoughts xD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Your eyes slowly flicker open, lids fluttering like butterflies to reveal your dark surroundings. Panic strikes you for a moment as you attempt to re-call how you got here, as you can't seem to be able to remember how you had turned up in this room. You begin taking deep, frightened breaths in, almost hyperventilating as you notice that the walls of the room seem to be covered in some strange, crimson substance that has been aimlessly splattered around.

The window, situated behind you, is mostly boarded up with planks of wood. Whoever bothered to do it had done a fairly shoddy job, as loose nails stuck out randomly, and the window still allowed splashes of light to shine into the otherwise dark space. You shudder slightly, noticing that you're laying down on an old, worn out carpet, only wearing your lilac undershirt and mysterious pair of ripped, black shorts. The otherwise lack of clothing reveals a strange, painful set of open cuts, making a semi-circle around one of your calves. You trace a finger down to the area, and wince with pain as you lightly touch it.

_H-how the hell did that happen? _

And then it all comes back to you. The events of the previous day that had gone terribly wrong, and then walking aimlessly into the town...

_And then..._

Your breath hitches as you remember the hunting trap that had caused the cuts on your leg, and the run through the forest. Lastly, the creepy guy who had forced you to swallow down that drugged cupcake. You wonder where you are, and what could have potentially happened to you. Aside from your foot, you didn't seem all that badly off. Your mind was slightly cloudy, and you couldn't get a certain itch out of your throat, but you assumed that to be aftermath of the anesthetic or whatever had been thrown into the food.

You glance around the curiously empty room and find a door to the left. You have no idea where it could lead, but you assume it'll get you closer to outside. Were you on ground level? Or above? There wasn't any noise from outside to indicate either. Actually, the lack of sound was rather chilling, and had you not already been scared out of your wits, you probably would have found yourself becoming creeped out by the silence. Was _he_ here? Had he brought you here? And seemingly undressed you (Good Lord, you felt practically dirty just saying that mentally), as you clearly remember being more appropriately dressed to deal with the usually gloomy weather around these parts.

You shakily bring yourself off the ground. He could be anywhere right now, and if you were careful enough, you could grab the chance to strike him if he gets close. Yeah, beat him up and demand for answers! You vowed to make him regret the day he ever thought that he could feed you poisoned confectionery!

Although that may be a bit difficult, considering you currently have trouble standing up. The cuts ache and sting, and it still feels as if something's still attached on. However, you still manage to lift yourself to your feet, and keeping your bodyweight on your good leg, manage to make your way out of the room, limping.

The first thing that you notice when you slowly get to the end of the room is the flickering light from the only corridor. When visible, it seemed long and narrow. You seemingly had no choice but to go down it in order to advance; so, shrugging your fears off, you slowly creep down the path. The lights flicker off, but since you know roughly what's ahead, you carry on in the pitch black.

Suddenly, the lights flicker back on again. You nearly jump as you notice the words 'ARE YOU READY?' scrawled onto the beige walls in neon-pink. You stare at the writing, eyes wide. Judging from the pink, it was most likely a message from him. But what did he mean by it? What were you supposed to be ready for?

You swallowed hard, and started walking again; the light managed to keep itself on, but you still moved fast, as you decided to take no chances with it. There were other rooms, dotted all around the corridor. Most of them had their doors closed, but from what you could see, almost all bore resemblance to that of the one where you had awoken in.

The end of the corridor lead down a mysterious staircase. Thankfully, when you glanced down, you could see that there was a source of natural light at the bottom. Nevertheless, you were still frightened by the mysteriousness of the situation. Where had he taken you? Why was he doing all this?

_Well, only one way to find out..._

Tensing, you slowly allow yourself to walk down a step or two. You keep the slow pace because of the lack of light and your hurt leg would sting from the pain if you moved too quickly and allowed too much pressure onto it. But, you know that you have to get out as soon as possible. Whether it was from the random splatters of red (_'Please don't let it be blood'_) on the walls, or the emptiness of this place, something about this freaked you out.

You feel a light draft on your exposed arms and legs as you creep down the steps; gripping the bottom parts of the undershirt with a nervous shiver, you slowly discover an open door at the base of the cold stairs. You find yourself surprised by this. Had he intended for you to come out of... Wherever the hell you were? Was this all another trap?

_Just hope for the best... He's kept you alive for now. If he wanted to kill you or something, he probably would have done it already._

You finally step outside, the rough surface of the pavement scraping against your bare foot. The fresh air that whizzes into your face, as well as the sunlight leaves you overwhelmed, causing you to stop for a minute in which to take the scene in. You are met with what could have been a town centre square, but is far too lacking in both people and shops. Instead, lonely, tall buildings with no seemingly no purpose litter the surroundings.

As well as the rather odd wooden table and man ten feet away from you. Indeed, it's him, still wearing that same, terribly quaint pink-themed attire. However, he now seems to be holding a tin tray of sorts, with an almost abstract pyramid of cupcakes (disturbingly enough, all bearing resemblance to the drug-laced one you had eaten previously) piled on top.

"Glad you could make it!" He speaks up, mad grin filling his face. "I hope you enjoyed your rest, love. You're going to need all the energy you can muster, methinks. You and I going to have SO much fun!"

You suddenly get the urge to attack him, but recognise that you are at a disadvantage with your leg. This, however, does not stop you from shouting out to him, angrily stabbing the air with your finger. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What ever could you mean, sweetie?" He gives you an almost teasing look, tone light and curious. This just infuriates you more.

You take a few angry steps forward, wincing slightly from the pain that stamping on the ground brought you. As mad as you were, you still couldn't help but to feel partially terrified as well. This was the guy who had trapped you like a wild animal, and seemingly abducted you. You were unarmed, unprotected, and weak from your injury, which meant that in a fight, he'd probably maul you. "W-What... _Why_ are... Why did you...?"

"At a loss for words, are we?" He smirks, walking over after putting the tray on the tabletop. "I just want to have some _fun._ And besides, you owe me. I let you out of that trap in the woods, and gave you a cupcake. I do believe I get a favour out of that, right?"

"I don't owe you anything!" You growled, back away slightly. "You! You practically assaulted me! And now... You're horrible!"

"Now, now. No need to lash out, there's no use to being a meanie. I think you'll end up enjoying yourself staying here if you just open your mind and accept-"

"Staying here? S-staying?" Oh, the audacity. "I don't think so? I'm out of this place!"

You turn away, only to be stopped by a hand gripping hard on your shoulder. "I don't suppose you know where we are, do you?" He asks with a low tone from behind. You can practically _hear_ his smirk, odd shivers running through you from his touch. "Besides, you wouldn't get very far with that injury, poppet."

You bite your lip in realisation that his statements are correct, and a moment of silence passes by as you try to think of a counter. He takes this as a sign to talk again, slowly trailing the grip on your shoulder down. "I just want to play a game, that's all..."

You gasp as with a sudden movement, he brings his other hand to your neck. He was holding a cold, sharp object that was now pressed against your fragile skin, while his other arm made its way to your hip. He leans in and whispers. "_You'll play with me, won't you?_"

You try struggling away, but what you now recognise to be a knife about the size of an average human hand seems to threateningly dig in, and you cease your action. You close your eyes in fear of whatever worst possible outcome you think may come and reply with a whimper. "W-What... What kind of 'game'?"

He doesn't quite let go, but lowers the weapon. His reply is all too cheery. "If I tell you now, it won't be a surprise! But, I'll tell you now that if you play nice, you'll be getting your own few treats as well."

Good Lord, the more you heard of his idea, the less you wanted to even think about taking part. However, it seemed that you really didn't have much of a choice at this moment. Perhaps you could try and 'play along' until you were in a state in which it was appropriate to attempt an escape? You figured that being hasty wouldn't work in this situation.

"F-fine. Just stop touching me, you evil son-of-a-"

"_Excellent!_" He grabs your arm and leads you towards the table, chattering excitedly along the way. "Not that you had much of a choice, but still! Oh, I almost forgot! Here, put these on. What you were wearing _really_ didn't suit you, so I picked out something much more ladylike for you to put on."

You nearly choked on spit when he picked up a pile of multicoloured clothes off the table and handed them to you. Well, this would explain why you had woken up in your undershirt, but it seemed more than odd to be given specific clothes to wear. He spoke up, pulling you out from your confused stare. "Chop, chop! Put them on quick!"

"But... I, erm... You're here. And..."

"Oh, right. You're one of the 'self conscious type'." He rolls his eyes, and turns away. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, I'll look away _for now_. Do hurry up."

All this was just strange, surreal, even; but you decide to not keep him waiting. You pick up what seem to be... Leggings. Not only leggings, but blinding, rainbow fishnet leggings. Thinking twice of whether you should put on the suspicious pair, you look over to the rest of the clothes given. It seemed he really did have a thing for pink, as both a button-up puff sleeved shirt and curious burgundy page-boy hat seemed to match his colour scheme (although, the shirt itself stood out more due to it being of an intense, neon shade).

You slip on the varicoloured leggings and fit the black shorts on again. After pulling them up and making sure that the creases around your knees were nonexistent, you slip the top on over your undershirt. Beside a pair of combat boots, you find an article of clothing that takes you a few minutes to recognise.

"Do you need help with that, poppet?"

Shocked, you look up to find him glancing at the black material in your hands. How long had be been looking at you for? You try to hope that he conveniently turned around when you needed help, but still had your suspicions. You give him a slow nod.

"It's a corset." He tells you, twirling his index finger to indicate that he wants you to turn around. You cooperate, and feel him bring two sides of the black material around your waist. He keeps his tone oddly low, as if he's not all too confident where this is going, but not at all nervous either. "Here, you have to fasten it from the front... Like, so."

He does up the topper-most latch, and leaves you to finish off the rest. You find it slightly tricky, but once getting the hang of it, manage to do the rest well enough. You're just about to tell him that you're done, but you suddenly feel a strange sensation as the laces on the back are fastened. You feel the corset tighten up around your body slightly, and then stop as he tied a small bow on the middle of the corset.

He picks up the cap on the floor and gives it a small dust and puts it atop your head. He tugs at the puffed-up fabric at your shoulder to make you turn around and takes a step back, giving you a once-over.

"_Practically delectable..._" He whispers, rose-blue eyes diluted.

You swallow as you awkwardly stand in your new attire. Thankfully, the corset doesn't dig in as much as you had anticipated it to upon sight, however, it does constrict slight movement. Slightly creeped out by his staring, you try and avert conversation elsewhere. "What now?" You stick your hands into your short pockets, looking down.

He gives you what you now recognise to be his trademark 'crazy smile', eyes wide and grin practically filling those freckled cheeks, while quickly gripping your hands tightly. "Now, my dear, is time for you to indulge in some cupcakes."

(TBC)

**A/N: Fuck pacing, let's just party around!**

**Oh well. I'm okay with this chapter xD Co-Authored by the awesome Nudgeride on dA, like I said, go check her out.**

**She designed the outfits for all the chapters xD**

**Please R and R if you can! I love to hear your thoughts!**

**-Socks**


	3. Chapter 3

You let out a soft, complaining whine; not too loud, in case you'd annoy him, but still audible.

Had you not been convinced that your captor was completely insane before, you certainly were now.

_Cupcakes._

It seemed as if he was attached to things childlike. Cupcakes, the cheerful clothes. Had it been presented to you by anyone other, it would have seemed almost cute. But, because of him, oddly terrifying. Even his attitude leaned to that of a childlike manner. Not by any chance immature, or dumb. Heavens no, just with an odd essence of a youthful manner. But, because it was mixed in with the craziness he possessed, you couldn't help but to find it oddly fascinating. Like a horror story around a campfire, oddly chilling, yet somehow managing to hold your attention.

You couldn't quite tell how many you had already eaten. Only a few, as it seemed from the pile that was slightly higher than your head; however, only a few minutes into this 'challenge', and you were already beginning to feel full from the food. Indeed, he had called this a "challenge". 'First' challenge, to be exact; which left you wondering on how many supposed 'challenges' there would be. You were supposedly going to benefit if you victoried eating the stack of extremely colourful cakes, or would pay the price if you didn't munch down all of the daunting looking pile in the next half hour. Or whenever the pastel rose sand timer that sat next to you ran out.

You had no idea what losing the challenge would mean, but with him, any penalty didn't seem like a good thing. So, you cooperated with the challenge, already dreading what you had gotten yourself into.

The pink-blue stare never ceased. He sat directly across you, perched on a bench-chair which was connected to the wooden table that you both sat at. He leaned in intently, at first with an almost hungry look, searching your newly clothed body with an almost appreciative glance. You weren't sure whether to be flattered or disgusted by the continuous onlooking, and decided to go or a mixture of both (more so on the latter). Now, he was looking at your progress, smiling at your growing discomfort.

"What's wrong, poppet?" He asked, voice smooth and rather quiet. "Already full? But you've barely started!"

You try your best to ignore his teasing comments, and pick up a yet another cupcake from the platter. Discarding the pretty, patterned casing, you bite into it, frosting first. It's incredibly sugary, but you detect a hint of both butter and flavouring in there as well. The batter seems to have a slight hint of strawberry flavouring mixed in, as well as an odd, medicine-like pang as well. No doubt another 'special ingredient' thrown into the mix.

His smile suddenly changes from the sharklike thing to that of a smug, 'I-know-something-you-don't stare. You can't help but to lick your lips from the pink frosting. Once quickly chewing the fantastically delicious cake, you force it down your throat, nearly gagging. You wanted to believe that you hated what you were consuming, that you were not enjoying it in the least. At least that way, you could hate him even more.

But, no. You just couldn't call these cupcakes gross. Although you certainly would give up anything to not have to eat right now. Even the pink lemonade that you had been provided with to wash it down wasn't helping.

At least one good thing was that the pain from the injury in you leg was subsiding. And by that, it was becoming suspiciously numb.

"I hope you're enjoying them, love."

You didn't want to waste time or energy with a spoken retort, and instead end up with giving him a small, sarcastic snort. He tuts and sighs, finally looking away. "That is so unladylike. I believe you really ought to have someone teach you some proper manners."

Much to your surprise, he absentmindedly picks up a neon-blue cupcake, and ever-so-slowly licks the icing off. Tongue practically on show as he brushes it against the sugar, sending a hot rush through your cheeks. You feel your eyes widen slightly as he carries on.

_What the hell is he doing_

And why was it causing such a reaction from you? You felt your cheeks heat up, and your stomach flutter with butterflies. He looked away, mouth curving into a naughty smile as his tongue slicked around those pastel lips. Cold sweat racing into your palms, you couldn't help but to hitch a breath there and then. The two-toned eyes suddenly greet yours with the smug, mischievous smirk almost sending a shiver through you.

"You've stopped. Like what you see, poppet?"

You nearly choke up, realising that he is correct and that you are no longer eating.

"I, uh..."

"Hm? Well, I can't say that I'm not flattered, poppet. I always knew I'd win you over, even if it'd require a bit of a push."

No. You knew that was wrong. You did not fall for kidnapping, cupcake obsessed psychopaths. This had to be his doing, as although you felt fascinated by his otherwise horrifying behaviour, there was no way that this haziness in your mind could be natural. There were odd sensations sparking through your body, and for some reason, you felt more sensitive than ever, especially with your hands, now held still.

You almost jumped when he suddenly gave a delighted giggle. He jumped up from the seat, causing the bench to creak slightly. He skipped over to you, and leaned in to your ear to whisper. "Say, sweetie. If you don't think that you can finish the cupcakes, I may have a compromise that won't be a forfeit."

You didn't think that you couldn't finish the cupcakes. You knew that you couldn't. Still, you did NOT like where this was going, especially from his previous comment. However, either way, you'd probably end up with losing the challenge, and the outcome of that would probably be worse than his idea.

"What kind of compromise?"

"Ah, here's the fun bit! I won't tell you." He placed a hand underneath his own chin, and smugly sat back. "You'll have to say yes or no. And then I'll let you know."

You think for a minute. "What will happen if I fail the challenge?"

Without hesitation, he pulls out the serrated knife that he previously held to your throat and fiddles around with it, as if it was some toy. "Same as the forefeit. You have to give me a part of... yourself to me. Don't worry! I'll be sure to make something nice with it, though!"

You fall into a shocked silence, almost vomiting your cupcake-filled guts. He had announced that he was going to cook up something with _your_ parts if you failed. Your body parts. Did that mean that he did it... Regularly? Was he really that... Crazy? Mad? Psychotic? God, this made made you sick. Had he put somebody's... Into these cupcakes?

Well, this decided it.

"...Yes."

"Huh?" His freckled cheeks seem to have blushed slightly for some odd reason, and even his eyes seem different. Diluted, like when he had said something about you previously when looking you over. Oh, yes. He had called you 'delectable'.

In this context, the word now had a slightly different meaning.

"I say yes. To your... Compromise." You felt practically feverish.

He stared at your lips for a second, before smiling like crazy. "Your choice."

With a smooth, sudden motion he grabbed your hand, pulling you closer in and brought his lips to yours.

For a second, you're too hot, bothered and shocked to compute what is going on. By the time you begin to struggle away, he had already pushed past your lips and and without asking for permission, dominantly forced his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes widen immensely as you taste the sugary sweetness of the frosting from the cupcake in your own mouth. His arms constrict around you as he crashes his body upon yours, onto the table; the cupcakes quickly knocking off the tabletop as he does so. Every touch sends shockwaves racing through your flustered bein, and you decide to close your eyes as his hand slowly pushes off the pink cap that he previously gave you along with the other clothes. You feel the sensual fingertips brush through your hair, and let out an involuntary moan.

_NO! no, stop it! This is sick, wrong and horrible! _Your voice of reason screams at you, and your eyes snap open as you finally gather the strength to push him away. He stumbles back, almost tripping over the bench seat.

When he finally gains balance, he gives you a wide-eyed stare, followed by a curt laugh. You find yourself panting from the sudden snog, sweat suddenly very apparent on your back. He too, is panting slightly, but after a minute, regains his breath and mutters to himself. "...I thought the aphrodisiac would work better. Oh well."

Aphrodesiac.

_Aphrodesiac._

Of all things in the whole world, why? Why would he use aphrodesiac?

Well, it would explain why you were so accepting to his advances, and why you found him eating the frosting so... Hot. And why you still felt so very giddy.

Good God, this was just embarrasing.

"You're fucking disgusting." _And hot. _

…_Augh!_

He chuckled at your profanity. "Really, now? From your moaning, I would have taken that you quite liked that."

You wanted to slap his smug grin. That smouldering smirk was just driving you insane. "You drugged me, you creep! I was under the effects of your fucking... Rape drug shit! Ugh!"

The worst thing was that the sugary taste of his mouth still hadn't left yours.

You felt dirty. Sick with yourself. At least you wouldn't have to forfeit. And, he had been using... Aphrodisiac. At least you had stopped before something worse happened. That was... Good.

"Sit down, poppet." He ordered, voice low.

"Why the hell should I-"

"Just settle down." He stuck his hand into his pocket and fished for something, before bringing out a white roll of bandage. "Your treat, remember? You get one at the end of every challenge."

Oh. Bandage.

You planted your behind on the back onto the wooden seat without another word. He bent down and carefully removed your black boot, and rolled up the rainbow legging. Every single touch still felt hypersensitive, but the flustered feeling had now decreased, instead filled with numbness. He was incredibly careful as he wrapped up the now oddly painless scarring on your leg. "I disinfected it while you were unconscious." He says, not looking up, voice chillingly monotone as he concentrated on doing a good job. "Plus, you should feel no pain right now."

You were trying to understand why that was the case when he finished with the bandage and slipped you boot back on. He didn't bother tying the laces up, and lifted himself up by gripping your thigh as support. You gave a surprised yelp, and he grins as a slight heat returns to your cheeks. "Shame that you pushed me away, sweetie." He stares at you, blue-pink eyes glaring at your expression. "Oh well. You'd better go and find the second challenge. Just follow that road until you find a forest, and you'll get told what to do. Quick word of warning, your chances of survival are going to drop by about fifty percent from this moment on. It'll be interesting to see how you go."

And for a moment, you wonder if it would have been a better idea to not push him away from the kiss.

(TBC…)

**A/N: AND THINGS SUDDENLY GET REAL.**

**Before you ask what the hell just happened, let me explain. Throughout the story itself, there's a shit tonne of symbolism you might wanna look out for. It'll all be explained later, but for now, the kiss itself represents the beginning of 2P!England's claim over you. Technically, one may say that the kidnapping was the beginning itself, but here I'm referring to a more mental one.**

**He wants to trap you, and make you come to him. The aphrodisiac itself was a lure, and the kiss was something thrown at reader-tan's stimulus. However, reader-tan managed to look past it (for now), and not fall for the pitfall that he set. His original intention was to probably seduce reader-tan, leaver her and then wait for her to come back crawling. **

**Just to mess around with her (*derp*).**

**The clothes that he forces reader-tan to wear are also symbolic of how much control he has over her. Think about it, he's practically draped chains of cloth over her body.**

**But we'll get more into symbolism later. For now, enjoy if you can! xD And don't forget to review if you have some feedback! :D**

**-Socks.**


	4. Chapter 4

Numb.

Everything felt so damn numb.

You couldn't quite feel your toes, but when your feet did touch the ground, the sensations that raced through your body felt exquisite. As if you were being licked by fire, but without the heat. It was an odd mixture of feelings, which fascinated you in the beginning, but annoyed you to no end now.

You hated him. Hated him for kidnapping you. Hated him for drugging you. Hated him for dressing you up in these weird, colourful clothes and making you play along with this... Sick game.

But you had no choice but to go forth with the mad festivities.

The numbness made it seem as if you were not the one controlling your own body, as if you weren't making yourself follow this path. At least the cuts in your calf weren't hurting anymore; you suspected some form of painkiller to have been in the aphrodisiac-laced treats to be the cause of that.

He had kissed you.

That itself seemed pretty surreal, too. What were you to him? A plaything? ...Something more? The mystery confused your clouded brain. If he liked you in the way you suspected him to have, then... Had he done something to you while you were asleep?

_...No. He... Maybe weird. Psychopathic, even. But... That doesn't seem like him._

...Does it? 

In truth, you didn't even know this man. He was just some... Crazy weirdo who had hunted you down. Well, you had been the one to fall into his trap, but that wasn't important. Either way, you know little about him.

You find yourself approaching a forest. A thick wall of trees stands in front of you, and you can't help but to find yourself a little nervous at the sight. As you come closer, you find a yet another pile of clothes in front of you.

...How peculiar.

You stared at the small stack of what you guessed was another outfit for you to slip on. You cross your arms, wondering whether they'd fit you or not, and whether you'll actually change into them. Why would he give you more clothes unless you'd actually find yourself needing them?

You decide to change into them, anyway. Maybe they'd prove useful for whatever task you were to do next? After a brief struggle, you slip the corset and neon-pink puff shirt off, feeling a sudden chill on your body as the cold air hits your exposed arms and you quickly thank for the purple undershirt you find yourself wearing underneath. You pull on the first new article of clothing, a black top with long, loose sleeves.

_At least it's warm. _You shrug, fastening a bow at the back. On the grass lies another pair of neon green leggings, that seem to have rips all over the front. Picking them up, you find another two objects underneath. A small pink bow that you suspect to be to keep your hair back, and... A rather large meat cleaver.

A meat cleaver.

You stare at the large knife with wide eyes and dread oozing into your stomach. A weapon? What was it for? Protection?

After changing into the new pair of pants and attaching the bow to your hair, you pick up the object with unease, watch the light glisten on a silver edge. Another pang of fright races through you as you note the dried, dark red stain on the sharp edge.

"You look lovely, sweetheart."

Shocked, you spin around in the direction of the noise.

But there's nobody there.

"Don't look so shocked. You can't see me because I'm nowhere near you."

You glance around. Where was his voice coming from? A speaker, perhaps? But it seemed as if his voice was all around you. You pause, twirling around to catch sight of any electronic device that would emit sound, but with no such luck.

"Stop looking around, poppet, and listen." You could hear, _hear_ the smirk in his voice. "You cannot see me, but I can both see and hear you very well. You didn't do very well on the last challenge, but I think you can redeem a tad bit on this one. Anyway, if you don't get through it, you're dead."

The casual tone sends chills, but you listen in anyway. Gripping the absurd knife in your hand, you pace about a little.

_Wait, if he can see me... Was he watching me get changed?_

The thought is pushed out of your head as he carries on. "Your aim is to get through the forest in front of you. The direction you are currently facing in is the one you must follow; don't lose it, or you won't be able to get through. There's a number of dangerous things in there, but they're a surprise for you to work out! I can't wait for you to find them!" There's a childlike delight to that last sentence. As if you dying would provide him nothing but entertainment.

"Well, you'd better get going, sweetie. You have until nightfall to get to the safe point, as you certainly won't make it through the night."

**AN: Quickie chapter. Done just to show that I am alive. It sucks.**

**I am sorry ;A;**

**-Socks.**


	5. Chapter 5

Cautiously and hesitant as ever, you tread through forest, fearing as to whatever may be coming at you. However, it seemed as if you were being lulled into a false sense of security, as this seems to be nothing more than your average bit of woodland. Well, as average as woodland can get with more of those wide-jawed hunting traps scattered about. You were nearly been caught up in one, just a minute in on your way through the forest; but avoided it by wildly flinging your body into the other direction.

Now, you kept your eyes on the forest floor, in search of more traps. Unfortunately for you, they seemed to be placed almost everywhere, and somehow managed to fit in perfectly with the environment that surrounded you. You kept your meat-cleaver at hand, fearing as to when or how you'd have to use it. Perhaps it was a red herring of sorts? Given to you to make you believe that there was something lurking about that you'd have to fend off with an oversized knife. It seemed to be something that he would do.

Then again, he had mentioned something about your chances of survival dropping. And that if you didn't clear your way by nightfall, you wouldn't survive. Was he out to kill you? Likely, from his threats of using your body parts for his cooking. But he also seemed to have some sort of a 'thing' for you, it seemed. The pet-names could be called idiolect (the word 'poppet' practically made you shiver with unease, he always seemed to add a creepy mixture of adoration and malice to it), however, his almost _lustful_ gaze upon seeing you dressed in the neon clothing, his clothing, couldn't really be taken any other way.

You soon lost track of time, moving forwards through the woods. But you kept to your set direction like your life depended on it. Which it probably did. It was deathly quiet, the only 'real' sounds that could be heard was the almost silent howl of the wind as it stroked leaves and grass, and your footsteps hitting and cracking dried bits of undergrowth. If there were more speakers scattered about, you couldn't hear any frequency from them.

Or any further words from him.

Which you didn't mind too much. You'd rather not have to talk to to the bastard which you now seemed to have thinking of. Every time a mental trace, whether it be an image of him in your head, or a memory of something he had said rushed through your cerebrum, your stomach instantly flipped, and you felt oddly dizzy.

A part notably large part of you wanted to see him die. But another was also somewhat curious as to what he had in store for you, and what inside of his brain was possessing him to make you go through all this. Not that it really meant anything; as were you given the smallest possibility to meet him while he was unprotected, you would probably deal with him accordingly.

_Or would that make me no better than him? To hurt him if I had the possibility?_

You were contemplating the thought as a strange chill ran through you, as if there was another presence somewhere close by. You hold up your meat cleaver and stand in a stance that could be called protective, with one foot slightly in front of the other, and the cleaver held by two hands, sharp part pointing away from your chest.

After a brief moment of nothing happening, you decide to start moving forwards. Everything stayed chillingly quiet, until a rustle, only a few feet away from where you were positioned, rang through the clearing. Panting from the fright, you yell out an angered, "Who is there?"

Out of a bush from your right, a small brown figure hopped into view.

A rabbit.

You got freaked out by a bloody rabbit.

Well, no-one could really blame you, considering your situation made it difficult what to actually expect. But the creature that was seemingly nibbling at the grass trail that lead up to your injured foot didn't exactly register as a threat. It could even have been called 'cute', with large flopped-over ears and a short, puffy tail that stuck out near its rump. You almost felt obliged to pick it up, but deciding that it was a wild animal, went against it.

However, you nearly jumped in shock as you felt its chocolate pelt brush up against the side of your combat boot, and decided it was due time to keep moving to get to your destination as soon as possible. You were on a deadline, after all.

Nevertheless, things soon took a different turn as when you took a step forwards, the bunny suddenly raises itself onto its hind legs, and with a deep, and oddly hungered glare, opens its maw and hisses at you.

You know for a fact that rabbits don't usually _hiss_. And that due to being herbivores, don't usually have large, sharp sets of teeth that resembled those of a canine. But you already knew that this was no Peter Rabbit.

Not sure what to do, you begin to back away very slowly, panicked breaths rolling in and out of your chest. But the small beast follows you, now unsheathing its sharp looking claws. And you knew for a fact that rabbits don't own retractable claws. You pick up sounds from the bushes around, and realise that there are probably more than one of these beasts hanging around.

You hear a low, delighted chuckle from around you, recognising the voice instantly. "In trouble so soon?" He mocks, taunting you from the hidden speakers. "Don't tell me you're that useless, sweetie. What are you going to do?"

"**RUN!**" You didn't want to answer him back, but as you see about three more figures draw nearer, you find it good time to make your getaway. You hope to run in your desired direction, going with your gut instinct on which way to sprint at. You hear further hisses from behind and you suddenly know that you're being chased, no, _hunted_ down. You still keep the large knife tightly in your grasp, but you figure that you should only use it at last minute.

Which may draw sooner than you would've hoped, because the rabbits (if they could be called that) had naturally faster bodies, more built for sprinting. One flung its body at you, snarling as it sunk jaws deep into your back.

Howling in pain, you crash to the floor, rolling onto your behind with all your weight to try and get the bugger to remove its jaws off of your upper back. You hear _him_ begin to laugh with hearty enthusiasm, as the other rabbits come nearer. The one that was biting you a moment ago now lay limply on the floor, fragile, speckled body unmoving. You take a quick inhale as you realise that the animals may have been more fragile than suspected, and that you had most likely crushed it with your weight.

With no time to lose, you take off again, more animals on your tail. Another comes close to snatching a grip onto your leg, however, a somewhat small miracle occurs, and with the shock of another animal nearly taking you down, you somehow manage to trigger a yet another trap, just by your foot. The creature gave a small, helpless squeak as its hind leg was suddenly and painfully held back, pulling its mass backwards and onto the ground.

Had it not viciously attempted to attack you seconds before, you would've felt almost bad for it.

Getting tired and sticky from the perspiration of the running, you find your body suddenly decreasing in speed. Frustrated, you try and speed back up, adrenaline and all sorts of other things racing through you keep pushing yourself forward with determination. Nevertheless, you can hear them catching up, now a small hunting-pack of compact, rabbit-shaped killers.

You find yourself stumbling out of the forest, and in front of a large field. Of stinging nettles.

Your body freezes. Should you go forwards or not? Rabbits or thousand, painful nettles?

"Quick hint, sweetheart. They won't go near the plants."

Good enough for you. You quickly drag your body towards the field, staggering for breath from the running. However, you hear an aggressive hiss from behind, and instinctively twist around to the noise. As doing this, you also bring the meat cleaver up, and by accident, puncture the 'rabbit' that was trying to pounce on you from behind.

You feel a splatter of warm liquid, which you recognise to be blood, impact your face as the impossibly sharp cleaver slices into the beast's flesh as if it was cutting into butter. The bunny wriggles desperately about for a split second, then stops moving altogether as you try and pull the knife out. You dump the carcass onto the floor, panting almost to the point of hyperventilating and take the last two or three steps towards the field of green.

The pain of the sting feels oddly numb, more like scratching than the usual ache. The rips in your leggings allow the nettles to touch, but you couldn't care less. You ignore further noises of the predators, as they stop when reach the beginning of the nettle field.

"I honestly didn't take you for the killing-type."

You feel rather... Broken at the words, and stand still as you wait for your breath to return.

"But you did! You crunched and slashed at my pets. It was rather delicious to watch, you know. Your transformation to such a barbaric little girl. I was expecting, no, hoping to see you die; thinking that I'd get to see your pretty little body get torn apart and gobbled up whole!... But instead you ruined it by having to be all magnificent and fighting back."

He rambles on, excited. You begin to walk further into the field, wincing in pain that was becoming suddenly more noticiable. You wish that you could just block out his voice, because on the inside, you feel horrible. Horrible at the fact that you had to go as far as to kill to save your life. Horrible at the fact that blood that wasn't yours remained on your face. Horrible at the fact that you were still so very helpless in the whole situation.

"Tell me, poppet. How does it feel to be alive right now?"

Instead of answering him, you throw the soaked knife at the ground and frustratedly groan. You just wanted to be out of this nightmare. You feel your eyes water up for a second, face flushed. And then, small, hot tears roll down your cheeks.

"Bit of a wishy-washy answer, that is. Are you sure you want to throw that away? It's a very important little weapon. Already saved your life! But, if you want to risk it... Well, I'd be rather interested in watching you fight with your bare hands."

You're about to retort back, when you see a large, lone building in the distance. Cold sweat tingles down your palm, as you lean forwards to get a better view. Yes, an abandoned-looking apartment building. Was that the checkpoint? Were you really only this far away from the end of the challenge? You glance at the sun, which you strangely find to be close to setting. You remember walking into the forest at early afternoon, so had you really spent that long,wading about?

_Time flies by when you're having fun, eh?_ You quickly take the weapon back into your grip with a small sob and pick up your pace, biting your lip as the nettles pricked against you more and more. The wild, tingly sensations were still bareable, as the painkiller from before was still taking effect, but the sooner you'd make it there, the sooner you'd be out of this challenge, and closer to safety.


	6. Chapter 6

_Walking._

An hour? Two, three? Indeed, you had been walking for goodness knows how long. You had completely underestimated how incredibly vast the field was, and had you not the sun to your side, would have completely lost the track of time.

_Pain._

Pain from bites on your back from the monsters that were under the disguise of rabbits ached as you gradually walked on; the wound itself was still open, and from the slight stickiness that clung to your back, you are under the impression that blood had dripped down from where the rabbit had bit and dried all over your back. Pain from the bruises from... Somewhere. Probably the running. Pain from the thousands of nettles stinging into your legs.

_Stinging._

Another underestimation. The stinging nettles which surrounded you may have not been as bad in the beginning; but as the drugs that you had been given to ease the pain in your leg were beginning to now wear off, you found our somewhat exposed shins (the rips in the leggings left skin in the open) in fire from the microscopic pricks. So unbearable that to ease the pain, you decided to at one point take the leggings off (hoping to God that he was looking away. He did have the decency to do that, right?), and reverse them so that the back parts (without the rips) were now on the front, covering your legs from the front.

Granted, you now had the burning at the back of your thighs to worry about, but it was an improvement.

_Tired._

As the adrenaline from running for your life gradually wore off, you found your body suddenly becoming more and more sluggish and fatigued. The hurt, however, kept you awake and moving.

You weren't sure if that was a good thing or not.

_Walking._

At least you weren't too far away from the end of the field now.

"Must you be so quiet?" He asks, impatience ringing in his tone. You haven't replied back to him, or shown any signs that you have interpreted his words. It confused you; what were you supposed to say? You were trying to find your way to the supposed checkpoint, and you had no time to waste.

"You're boring me, now." The whine comes from the speakers. You weren't even sure where the hell they were placed, as you were in the middle of a field; but they must be hidden somewhere probably below you. "You know what? I thought we were going to have so much fun together. I thought that you were going to be something entertaining to watch, but no."

You feel like answering back, but honestly are at a loss when it comes to words. Instead, you choose to press on, trudging through the field. The edge of the field was relatively close, and you could see past it now. When the nettles ended, another open field of pastel-green stretched out and a rather large apartment building stood out about twenty feet away.

There was no door, as you could see an open entrance inside, and majority of the windows were either broken or boarded up, but it was still a strangely welcoming sight. Well, more welcoming than a bunch of killer 'rabbits', anyway.

"You know what? I think that I'm going to have to spice up this whole ordeal, sweetie." He seemed rather... Joyful all of the sudden. "But, honestly, I just can't decide whether you should live or... Die."

The words sent chills, but like before, you shrug it off. You take a few last steps forward, and finally, _finally_ make it out of the damned nettlefield. You breathe a sigh of relief, and scan the area around you for more dangers (it was possible that the beasts could have gone around the field, but unlikely) before setting sights on the building.

You practically skip to your destination, despite feeling so fatigued. Glad to still actually remain alive, it feels as if nothing can keep you from reaching the checkpoint. You step inside the grey building, and a quick shiver runs through your back as you notice a significant drop in temperature, but are too happy to even really care.

You rest your back against the wall, and allow your body to slide down. Only when you are sitting do you realise how tired your feet are, and how much your stomach seems to be rumbling (despite the vast amount of cupcakes you had consumed beforehand). You also find yourself parched, but cannot be bothered to get your body off of the ground.

"You might want to explore the building. There's certain treats and prizes for managing to stay alive for this long scattered about, you know."

This surprises you; and for a second, you wonder if it's some sort of elaborate trap. He did seem pretty insistent on killing you off at the moment. However, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you end up dragging your backside off of the floor and hauling your body to look around what was beyond the dark room. There seemed to be no light bulbs around, or energy for that matter. Chilling, really, as your only source of light was from shattered windows, which were not going to be of much use to you, as the sun was already setting.

Following the door, you find a tiny corridor leading to two more rooms. One seems to be a fairly pristine kitchen. Pristine, because it is so very empty. With a miniature fridge (you guessed that it didn't function), a few dusty-looking cupboards and a small, silver sink.

You decided to hunt around for said 'prizes', and quickly tip-toed to the cupboard to scavenge about. You seem to have forgotten that your meat cleaver is still at hand, and lay it down onto the floor with a slight 'clink'. Almost coughing at the sudden amount of dust instantly propelled at your face, you find yourself disappointed at the contents inside the cupboard.

Nothing more than an odd, metallic can, about the size of a carton of milk. It looks rather old, and as you pull it out, you discover nothing more on it than a 'use by' date that has been printed on the top. The contents were meant to last until next year, but the fact that you had no idea what they were still aroused your suspicions.

You place it next to the large knife on the floor with a sigh. However, your expression changes to one of confusion as you hear a strange 'humming' noise nearby. You turn your head to the direction of it, and are surprised to find the sound to be coming from the fridge. Was it functioning? Crouching down, you bring yourself towards the small, white 'box' and shakily open it up.

A bright bulb inside highlights the room around you, causing you to slightly recoil before you peer inside. You aren't disappointed, the fridge itself is stocked up with various goods, including ingredients for cooking, as well as what seemed to be ready-made dishes. A small plate of sandwiches seems to be safe enough, and the neat pile of crustless treats look pretty appealing compared to those cupcakes you consumed earlier.

You also find yourself scooping out a bottle of juice, marked as 'apple and raspberry.' You quickly dig into the sandwiches, not really caring about what is inside. The plateful goes by faster than you'd anticipated, but you feel somewhat replenished as you munch down the last one.

"Somehow I knew you'd pick that."

"Oh, really?" You spoke up without realising, tone challenging.

"She speaks!" He was delighted, and continued on quickly. "How are they? I made all those by myself! And the rest of the food. I wasn't sure what you fancied, poppet, so I made everything I could think of!"

The fact that he made the food was a bit unnerving, but you felt alright so far. That, however, did not mean that you forgot about last time.

"You didn't lace them with any more of your aphrodisiac bullshit, did you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He said, with a teasing giggle. "You must have been ever-so-hungry. You munched them all up like a little pig! How unladylike. But, I'll let it slide for now. You'll have to learn to keep your manners up for next time, though."

_Next time?_ "Yeah, right. If I live for that long. I thought you wanted me dead?"

"I told you, sweetheart! I just can't decide whether you should live or die! Oh, you'd probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry..."

You looked up to where you suspected a camera lay. Was he... Singing?

"_No wonder why, my heart feels dead inside! It's cold and hard and petrified! Lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride! _"

_Singing_? Oh, great. The bastard was _singing_. And singing about... Well, you had no idea about what exactly. But the kid-like giddiness in his voice kept you listening along. His singing voice wasn't actually half bad, but because it was _him_, you wanted to yell at him to shut up. You then notice that he has stopped, and seems to be waiting...But for what?

Oh Good Lord... Was he waiting for...

Approval?

"What do you want, you fucking psycho?"

"Eh? What do you mean, sweetie?" He was obviously feigning ignorance. He wanted you to admit to something.

But what?

"...You stopped singing. Why?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart! You were listening to my lovely song?"

You could hear the joy in his voice as he asked the question, and could practically imagine his wide grin. "Of course I was listening! You seem to forget that you have speakers all over the place. How the fuck could I **possibly** escape from it?"

"But I thought you didn't want me to stop! Were you not enjoying my voice?"

"Of course not! You sound like an idiot when you sing!" Well, he didn't, but you felt like insulting him anyway. "I hate you, okay? I hate your fucking voice! And I hate all this... Bullshit you've put me through! Why are you doing this to me? Huh? Do you get some kind of enjoyment out of it all?"

You have no idea where the sudden outburst came from. It feels so juvenile to rant out to him in such a fashion, but you have grown so tired of his teasing game, so tired of his mysterious ways and so incredibly tired of asking yourself all these questions of his intentions.

He pauses for a brief while, confused and strangely shocked from the yelling. He's a smidgeon quiet when he finally replies, almost... Sad. "Stop yelling at me, I don't like yelling..." There's an almost-whimper as he mumbles something you can't quite make out. But it is almost as if the meekness disappears within the second, replaced with the typical cheeriness, but it seemed to hide something else. Was he hurt by your words?

"Besides, you know why you're doing all this. We're just having some fun, remember? We're playing a game!" You realise that he's no longer trying to convince you, but... Himself. "I can't believe you don't appreciate all this work I've done for you!"

"_You wouldn't have had to do any work if you hadn't kidnapped me..._" You mutter under your breath, hoping that he doesn't hear. But he does.

"Do you not realise how much I love you? I'm doing this all because I want to have fun with you! But, no! You just call me names and... And it isn't nice!"

You're genuinely shocked. Gobsmacked, even. You somewhat suspected his attraction from since his hungry gaze had first hit you, but him admitting to it was something else entirely. Why did he like you? Love you, even?

It seemed, however, that he answered the question before you even had a chance. "I've seen so many people just start crying tears and refusing to fight back. And it is so annoying! I just want them to shut up and keep playing! But no! They just keep crying and crying and then, I can't help but to get angry and... When I get angry, it isn't good for anyone, I suppose. But no, not you, poppet. You're always fighting back! You're always being so brave and trying to actually... Do something to save yourself. And I... I like that, you know? That nitty-grittyness that you've got when you fight to save your life. It's not ladylike, and it's weird... But I like it."

"I... Uh..." You're not quite sure what to say. Should you try and calm him down? There wasn't much you could do to, as he wasn't even nearby. You needed time to think. His words, everything that had happened in the day so far... It was all too overwhelming.

"...But it's all okay, isn't it, poppet?" He chuckled darkly, the sound making your blood run cold. "We're having so much fun, aren't we? You and I have so much more to do together. Well, unless you end up dying somewhere. But I promise you now that your death will be something to marvel at!"

From your place on the floor, you suddenly find yourself hearing his voice louder from the left than from the right. Only now do you realise that there is a grey box with a wire that runs into the wall attached. You drift closer to what you recognise to be a speaker, curiously eyeing the thing up.

"I'll be creative about it, too. Having my pets come after you was a tad overdone and predictable; no wonder you got away! And how fabulous is it that you did? Now I can personally make sure that when you bite the dust, it'll be all gorgeous and gory! Oh, there'll be blood everywhere, splattering about. But I'll make sure not to put it to waste-"

"**Shut up!**" You have had about enough of the talk of you getting killed. Not only was it terribly disturbing, but every time he'd go on about killing you, it seemed that he would then revert to talking about how much he liked you. Overall, it was just confusing and drove you insane every time he'd go on about it. "Can't you just stay quiet?"

"But, sweetie! I'm just saying that if you look so pretty on the outside, then I can't wait to see how gorgeous you are on the _inside_."

"That is fucking it!" With a growl, you pick up the still-bloody meat cleaver, and with all your might, swing it at the speaker. Sparks fly, illuminating the room, as the metal sinks into the box. You drag the cleaver out and whack the now-destroyed equipment again and again, screaming more profanities as you utterly destroy the object.

***CRASH, BANG, SMASH***

Once it reaches the point of being so destroyed that you can no longer hit it, you back off, chest heaving for air. There is a brief moment of silence, in which you swear you can actually feel him staring at you. He suddenly begins to laugh; cackle, even. However, the noise is slightly quieter, as the sound must be coming from another speaker further away.

You contain yourself from screaming at him to shut up again, as you know from trial and error that it won't help you out. Staring at the metallic pieces, now scattered about the room, you try and evaluate what on earth possessed you to lash out at it in such a manner. But, you cannot seem to be able to think straight, especially with him sniggering like a hyena of sorts in the background, and instead decide to walk out of the room, knife in hand.

The further corridor was dark and desolate, since the sun had nearly set, you could hardly see the way forwards. An obvious camera was pinned up too high for you to reach; you could hear it 'whirr' as it followed you making your way down. There was a door at the end of the route, but before it, there was a small object about the size of your hand.

You pick it up, nearly gasping at how cold it is, and although do not recognise it at first, find a tiny button on its chunky handle. As you suspiciously press it, a beam of light shoots forward, and you recognise the object to be a miniature flashlight. Figuring that it'd be of use to you now that the surroundings were becoming dark, and the bulbs in here were all missing, you keep it on you, and cautiously open the door in front.

It's another fairly empty room, except the walls are grimy and tiled. At the far edge, there's a lonely shower head that goes into the wall, and below it, a simple drain. You creep towards it, keeping your flashlight shining into the otherwise pitch-black room (as there were no windows).

As you come closer, you realise that the shower itself only has one knob to turn to release the water, so you couldn't control the heat. You can feel the dirt, blood and sweat that still clung over your body from the events of the past day, and are desperate to wash it all off. However, you wonder if _he_ would watch you, or if he had stored cameras within the washroom.

You put down the meat cleaver and quickly hop towards the camera back in the corridor. Looking directly up it, you bring yourself to quietly ask. "Do you have cameras stored in the room?"

"Maybe."

Good God, he's practically teasing you there.

"Listen, I'm sick and tired of all this... Crap, and I just want to have a shower, all right? I just want to know that you're not going to..."

"Going to what, poppet?"

"...G-Going to be watching me." You gulp, feeling a slight heat travel to your cheeks.

You hear him snort with laughter and then ask. "Wot, you really think I'll be watching you, sweetheart?"

"Haven't you been watching me this whole time?"

"Only because you keep me on the edge of my seat." He admits, and then continues after a brief pause of thought. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but I do recommend you take a shower. You still have blood all over your front."

"As if that's my fault." You retort, turning away and stepping back to the shower room. You close the door and switch the flashlight on. The darkness creeps you out a little, but you feel too tired to really care. Your muscles felt exhausted, and your eyelids were beginning to droop; you knew that you'd have to get to sleep straight after the shower.

There is no shampoo or soap, so all you'd really get to do is rinse your body clean. Still, that'd probably be better than nothing, right? You begin to change out of your clothes, discarding the black boots and shirt, and overturned leggings, but just as you get to your undershirt, you decide to actually test out how warm the water will be.

You stand away from where the water could possibly hit, and crank the knob. A slight bit of water suddenly rushes out, and after a minute or so, you put your hand into the stream shooting down to test the temperature.

It is freezing cold.

You yank your hand away and watch the shower pour down. There was no way in hell that you were going to wash yourself in that, no matter how desperate you were to clean your body. Sighing in defeat, you shut the shower off, and shrink away.

Tired, you hop down onto the tiled floor, gazing at the water trickling down into the sewer. A part of you wants to curl up like a leaf and die; maybe that would be an escape from all this.

_No._ You push out the thought out of your head immediately. _I've stayed alive for this long, and I'm not going to let myself die anytime soon. I'm not going to let him win. There has to be some kind of way out of this place... I just need to find it. _

Wincing slightly at the coldness of the floor, you allow your body to rest on its side. Thinking of hopeful thoughts of escape, you allow your eyes to close and find yourself losing consciousness within the minute.

**(TBC…)**

**A/N: Long-ass chapter.**

**With no action!...**

**And, uh, OOC character development?**

…**Remind me why I'm still at this? xD**

**We're about halfway through the plot. Story itself is going to pick up pace from now on.**

**And there is going to be another character (nation) introduced pretty soon. If you can guess who, you'll get a cookie ;D**

**Please Read and Review! :D**

**-Socks.**


	7. Chapter 7

_"You are absolutely gorgeous, you know." He placed down the china cup with a giddy 'clink'. There was no real way of knowing what he was drinking, other than to draw conclusions from the crimson liquid that spilled over the side of the palm-sized, ceramic mug. It was thicker than water, but visibly hot from the steam that rose from it. "I want you to be here with me, sweetheart. Forever."_

"...Just a shame about that naughty attitude. Shame you had to... Go."

He was, of course, talking to the unmoving corpse of what had been a once-living person, clad in overly-colourful, yet somewhat Victorian themed clothing. He frowns at the sight, and mutters something to himself, before angrily throwing the teacup onto the ground, piping hot substance splattering everywhere. He screams and stomps about, much to the likeness of a three year old on a tantrum.

"Why couldn't you just play with me? Why couldn't you just love me back, eh? After all I did for you! Wot, was it not good enough?" He grabbed the limp carcass by its shirt collar, and roughly shook it about. "But, fine! Fine! I made it so that we can now be together, without you acting up. "

He releases his grip, letting the body fall backwards and he sighs. "...I hate this. I don't want to love you. I don't want to love anyone. It's all your fault! All because of you and your... Temptation! That's what you are. Nothing but temptation. You've made me go all soft, and I don't like it!"

Of course nothing he said was answered. He was alone here. All by himself.

Quite a sad sight, really.

Sitting back on the chair, he gently brought his knees up to sitting position, and held his legs close to his body, hugging them. He rocked forwards slightly, and muttered words to himself. "...I-I just want her _**gone**__." _

You snap your eyes wide open with a gasp, breathing heavily as you let the shock of the dream slide over you. You realise that all your hairs are practically standing on end as you try and wait for your mind to catch up with what had just happened.

It had just been a dream. Nothing more.

_Thank God._

You notice that around you, a mysterious, pink blanket has been draped over your body. You push it off quickly, wondering how in the world it could have possibly gotten near you. You then realise that _he_ must have come into the room while you had been asleep. He must have also left the set of clothes right next to you, and had been the one to somehow flick the lights on in the room.

_Why?_

Throwing the blanket aimlessly off, you get up. Still shocked from your 'dream' (_more like a nightmare, to be honest _), you take things slowly as you slip into your new set of clothing. You slip on a pink tank top that fits perfectly over the purple undershirt, covering it up fully. On the neck, it seems to have a rather cute, ruffled part. But you try and dismiss it, as you don't want to admit to liking his fashion sense.

You quickly slip on an even more absurd, neon-bright pink skirt with what you recognise to be small, decorative _chains_ on the sides. They look pretty, but for some reason, the fact that you're wearing chains, _his chains_ makes your stomach lurch. You suddenly realise a slight weight in your hair, and as you trace your hand into it, realise that the bow from before had been taken out, and small metallic bits (clips, perhaps?) replace them.

You put on the black combat boots, and grab a hold of the meat cleaver. The weapon seems rather familiar now, your hand sliding over into a comfortable position over the bloodstained, wooden handle. Carefully, you creep back out and into the corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible in hopes that you don't wake him up.

_"Good morning, poppet."_

You nearly jump at that, and bring your gaze directly to the camera.

"What do you want?"

"No need to be so rude." He tuts."Did you have sweet dreams?"

At that, a small part of you wonders if he knows about what you've actually dreamed of, but then you realise that it would be impossible for him to. Instead, you shrug your shoulders, and keep moving towards the kitchen area. "Delightful ones, actually."

He seems to pause for a moment, almost as if he had been expecting a different answer, but then makes up for the pause by quickly stating with a somewhat of a sing-song voice, "You've got another challenge coming up!"

"Is that so?"

"Indeed!" You swear you hear a giggle there. "Make sure you get some food into that tummy of yours! It's a pretty _different_ one, this one. Don't eat too much, though! We don't want you to get too big, as some parts of this one will be a bit of a tight squeeze."

You snort at this, secretly dreading the following 'challenge' inside. You were getting the impression that this 'game' was going to be the worst one yet. However, you getting more and more intimidated as you found yourself having a difficult time trying to imagine what could be worse than being forced to kill (killer) bunnies.

You bring your refreshed body into the kitchen, back and neck still aching from the wounds of yesterday. They were probably going to take a long, long while to heal, and were going to serve you as a weakness in whatever was going to be coming at you. However, despite the horrid pain, you distance yourself from believing that the stinging wasn't happening. And it actually worked until he spoke up again.

"I left you a special treat in the fridge, sweetie!"

Blinking with uncertainty, you hobble towards the storage of food, mildly disappointed by this news. You were hoping to catch a bite of what had been in there last night. As you inch towards it, you cautiously open the door, peering inside with curiosity as to what the 'treats' were. However, when you see a rather large plate of cupcakes (with identical pink-blue frosting to that of yesterday's batch) inside, you can't help but to stumble away as your stomach churns from memories of gorging yourself full of the cakes only yesterday. You feel bile rise up your throat as you remember the sticky-sweet taste of _his_ tongue inside of your oral cavity.

"What's the matter, poppet? Not hungry? You're looking a bit ill all of the sudden."

You wished with all your might that he could be right there, in the room with you. That way, you'd at least get the satisfaction of beating his face to a pulp, rather than hyperventilating as you were right now. You calm yourself, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you even more distressed, and instead look to face the mysterious, unlabelled can from the previous day. Whatever the hell was inside had to be better than the cupcakes, any day.

"The skirt looks fab on you, by the way." He suddenly comments as you step away from the fridge. "The colour suits you well."

You give a small, sardonic laugh as you find the mysterious can from before, still on the floor, along with millions of pieces of smashed up speakers. "You must like seeing me in chains then, judging from the rather interesting accessories on the sides."

He practically guffaws at that, causing you to roll your eyes as you carefully bend down to pick up the can. "I can't say you're wrong there, poppet. However, you seem to have completely missed the message in them."

"The message?" You place the can on the table, and bring the meat cleaver up, carefully trying to stab through the top. "What are you talking about?"

"Hm? You're really too dim to miss it? But you're such a clever little thing!" You can't tell if he's sarcastic or not. But from his tone, he seems all too sincere. "Well, since you can't be bothered to even try crack it, I'll go ahead and tell you. The chains that drape around the sides of your... Hips are a representation of the fact that you belong to me, now."

You don't even notice the large knife go through the metal top; instead, you're too busy being frozen with a rather shocked look on your face. The statement was news to you. When had you become... His?

He seems to have noticed your confusion, as he quickly follows his statement up. "Think about it, poppet. You eat my food, you stay at where I want you to stay, you wear the clothes I allocate you to wear and every second you are living, you are at my total mercy." He seems to stifle a gleeful laugh, and substitutes it with a rather dark tone. "I can see when you can't see me. I know everything, every trick and every nook and cranny of this place. You're bound to me, bound to my very will. Putting those chains on you is practically _poetic justice._"

You take a few deep breaths in, and try to calm yourself down. You stare at the knife, and pull it out, seeing that it has formed a small hole at the top of the can. You think of how to retort back, but find that you really have nothing to say.

Nothing but denial.

"**No!**" You yell out in frustration. "I'm not some damn toy or puppy you can just own-!"

"Mind your language." You can see him shaking his head with a haughty tut in your mind. "Besides, it seems you somewhat are. If I wasn't so entertained by all you do, you probably wouldn't be breathing right now. Not that I particularly mind, as you can probably remember from yesterday, I really want to see the turnout of our little adventure with you six feet over or under. Well, as the expression goes. I probably wouldn't waste you on a burial."

Biting back tears as the heat of the frustration comes to your face, you pick up the can and allow the excess fluid to spill out of the hole you made, while not allowing any of the important contents to get out. You still had no idea what the can contained, but hoped that it would make a worthwhile breakfast at any rate.

You decided to hold back your tongue in case you'd say something that would expose a weakness and send the already fragile being that you were crashing to the ground. You resumed opening the can up with your knife, carefully using the toppermost part to saw through a round hole. Once you hard cut into a shape that somewhat resembled a circle, you pinched a side of it, and then pulled it up, bending the metal.

You peered in to see what was inside. You could hardly make it out, because the inner parts on the tin were dark, but what you did see ended up surprising you slightly. Granted, you hadn't been sure what to exactly expect from the mysterious can, but you certainly hadn't expected it to be filled three quarters up with strange, light orange bits of... Fruit.

"Peaches, huh?" You mutter, grabbing one by the far edge and lifting the fairly soggy piece of fruit out with a watchful eye.

You can practically hear your stomach rumble from hunger, and quickly stuff the preserved fruit into your mouth without much more thought. It tastes odd, and you aren't all too sure if you like the odd flavour or not. It's a kooky mixture of rather bland nothingness, but still somehow brushing with flavour on the aftertaste. You force the peach down your gullet, not caring whether you like the taste or not. Something about the fact that it had been preserved in syrupy liquid for goodness knew how long made it oddly thirst-quenching. You quickly lick your lips, tasting the sweetness of the food on them.

You end up deciding not to waste the fruit, and manage to somehow eat up majority of the insides of the medium-sized can. You find yourself fairly full from the food, despite there not being all too much of it. Nevertheless, a small part of you, even though absolutely microscopically tiny, seems to be a little bit more ready to face the day's challenge. Which was odd, because although you did not try to show it, you were scared out of your wits, and honestly feared that you would not see the end of today.

In the end, he was right. He seemed to have overall control over this world. Your world. And if he fully decided it was time for you to die, then he had all the power to do so.

However, there was really only one piece stopping him from making that very decision. And that piece, it seemed, was to keep him wanting for more. You had discovered a weakness in him; his lust for action and passion for this strange game. If you kept the pendulum of the deadly festivities going, you'd at least keep him hooked.

_Well, then._ The small, brave and rebellious part of you suddenly spoke up. _I'd best keep him entertained._

**(TBC…)**

**A/N: sorry about lack of both quality and updates. I'm recovering from exam-aggedon, which delayed me from working on this fic. Oh well, I should be getting back into my usual writing routine now, so expect updates soon. Meanwhile, please R & R, and thank you for all your support and reviews so far! xD**

**-Socks.**


	8. Chapter 8

_"Mr. Kirkland, with all due respect, this job has been delegated to you."_

Of course, everything was Arthur Kirkland's job. They always made him go after whatever the issue was. World conference? Well, there wasn't really anyone better to send. Go and talk to angry underground workers on strike? Bring in Arthur Kirkland. Need to spy on an enemy country? He was your man. Hiker lost on a hill in the Yorkshire Dales? Who else could anyone depend on?

_"I'm sorry, but surely shouldn't someone professional be sent for this-?"_

"As far as they're concerned, you are a 'professional'. Now, look. Forty five people have gone missing around this area, presumably abandoned, in the past six months. There is clearly something going on, and your aim is to go and find out what. You could be saving lives here, sir. Not that you really have much choice in the matter, but don't your morals tell youth go and at least try to find out what has happened?"

"Yes, but I just don't find myself the correct person-"

"Great. We've booked you a first class ticket on the first great western service to there in two days time. Get yourself packed up, alright?" 

Two days later, he found himself wandering past the desolate train station with a large, outdated map of the area. It had been a while since he'd picked one up, but remembered that he probably ought to know how to read a map better than a book (being a former pirate often heightened one's navigation skills). Besides, even in the worst case, he was sure that he could depend on one of his magical friends to aid him on his mission.

However, the second his foot left the last of the concrete, an uneasy feeling suddenly gushed over him. It made him uncomfortable, and... Lonely. And he of all people wasn't keen on keeping himself alone.

"Relax, Arthur." He muttered to himself, hand on temples. "Just take a look around, and report back. Whatever's out here cannot be more powerful than you are, anyway."

And with that, he set off in the direction of the nearby (supposedly deserted) town.

**~*Meanwhile*~**

You find yourself facing a rather odd sight. Slap-bang in the middle of the otherwise deserted landscape was a large set of massive, bottle-green bushes, about as tall as a single story house. Cutting into the greenery was an equally big set of mahogany doors with odd pink and gold art-nouveau decorations sprawled across the edges, that somehow had hinges inside the bush.

_How does that even work?_

You take a few steps forwards, unsure. "Hey!" You call out, looking around for another camera, but with no such luck. "Is this where I'm supposed to go?"

"Indeed it is, sweetheart!" he almost sings in the childish tone. "Just keep going forwards, and you'll figure out what to look for. Your objective is to make it to the end of the maze."

"Let me guess, it's pretty deadly?"

"Don't make me ruin the surprise." He giggles, causing your eyes to roll.

You expect the door to be extremely heavy, but as you push into the dark wood, you find it actually fairly easy to swing open. The hinge, however, gives a creepy 'creak' as you do so. Meat cleaver in hand, you walk into the luscious labyrinth, which you find to be an ideal fit to the stereotypical set of seemingly never ending green pathways. The sky above you was fairly bright, so at least the maze was clearly lit, not that there was much to be looking out for. The single, green path stretched out for a vast while, and it seemed almost endless.

"You know, this 'maze' of yours is pretty boring." You yell out, in no particular direction, swinging the meat cleaver by your side. "I think you're losing your touch, old man!"

To be honest, you're more bored than anything, despite knowing that you ought to be fearing for your life. You swear that you can hear the beginning of a rather annoyed growl at your comment about the green labyrinth, but it seems to be contained. As if he's biting his tongue to keep his image.

He ends up staying oddly quiet, but you can practically feel him staring at you through whatever camera he has rigged up in his location. Whirrs of lenses focusing on you as you pass by fill the otherwise silent air, and you walk straight forwards for what feels like half an hour. Maybe he had put in this section of the maze, specifically to bore you. Maybe, it had no possible end, and you were going to keep walking forwards until you collapsed from hunger and exhaustion and died.

_No._ You shake your head. _That'd probably bore him more than you. This is probably one of his tricks. Keep going. _

"You know, you're the first person to ever make it this far." He suddenly notes, voice actually rather curious. "If you somehow do manage to live through this, which you probably won't, then I think I may have found my champion. I suppose that of all people... You, poppet, would be the only one that's fit to really take the crown."

"You make it seem like you're wanting to make me be your queen."

"Maybe I am, sweetheart. I thought I already admitted to..." He pauses here; and you again hear him bite his tongue while thinking of words to say."..My feelings towards you."

Still walking, now with a relatively quicker pace, you ask. "Then why want to kill me? If you find yourself cherishing me as much as you seem to do, and find yourself so attracted, why would you want to take someone away by your own hand?"

"...What a thoughtful question. I told you that you were a clever girl." He mutters, an oddly cheerful tone in his voice. He then gives a curt laugh, and finally answers, slowly at first. "First of all, this is our game, isn't it? You lose, it's your fault and you die. But, if you do live... Well, we'll see. Either way, whether you do somehow, despite the chances being rather low, manage to survive, it'd be as interesting and as _entertaining_ as watching you die."

"So, I'm here for your entertainment, then?"

"You always were, poppet. Always. But, a boy cannot stop his foolish little heart, can he? Lust turns into love faster than you'd actually expect."

You scoff. "I take it that your idea of lust was the kissing, right?"

He laughs, again, strangely calm as he seems to be reminiscing. "Indeed, the snogging was a part of it."

"Part of it?" You're not sure that you want to know what he means by that. "So, you're watching someone you love die purely for entertainment. You do realise, that with all your time and resources, there's so much more you could be doing, right? Not to mention, I'm sure that watching someone you 'love' go away by your own hand will hurt, right?"

"..." He pauses. You realise that there's something in what you said that must have somehow hit him home, perhaps? He finally snaps out of it with a mad giggle, and replies, "Well, poppet. I guess I just like to hurt myself in ways that are more creative than others. Scars of the mind are more painful than ones you can hack into a body, it seems."

You remain quiet, partially because what he just admitted somewhat leaves you feeling thoughtful to the point of being speechless, and partially because the path in front of you has diverged into an equal two. You peer into both ways; however, they are completely identical.

"Which way am I meant to go? They both look the same!"

He doesn't answer; and for the first time, you actually want him to talk back to you. Then again, he was probably keeping quiet because the answer to your question was fairly obvious. The place you were in was a maze, and it was up to you to choose whether to take the route to the left or to the right, regardless of knowing what was down the end. After a brief few moments of decision-making, you randomly pick a route to go down and begin to walk in its direction.

However, as you take several steps into the direction, you hear an ominous shuffle from behind. Gripping the large knife tighter than ever from fear, you turn your body to glance in the direction behind, only to find that the path that you had just walked through was now cut off by a large section of bush that had almost instantly grown there.

_W-What the?-..._ You nearly jump at the development, but turn and keep walking forwards. You realise that this was a part of the maze, and you should probably be wary of it.

"How long do I get to clear this place, anyway?"

"You'll be finished off before the day is over." He seems despicably cheerful, all of the sudden. "But the longer you spend in this part of the maze, the more fun things will get!"

You don't like the sound of that, but decide to keep quiet, calm and carry on. You walk for a good five minutes at a steady pace until you are met with another choice of which route to go down. The two choices available are, yet again, identical to one another; however, the ground seems to be of an odd, dark colour.

You choose a route at random, and walk on. The ground feels oddly 'springy' on your boot, and upon examining it, you realise that it isn't grass. You can't quite identify what it is, and decide to ignore it for now.

As you make your way forward, you suddenly find yourself freezing when something brushes against your boot. You gulp and look down, hair raised on end, only to find nothing there.

_It's just my imagination. Getting paranoid. Stop it _

You keep treading forwards, looking down to begin with, but then figuring that there is nothing there, and that stopping to stare is a waste of your time. Time seems to pass as you walk through the maze with nothing really happening, and you relax a bit.

However, your relaxed state is gone in a flash as you see an odd, pink bit of... Something, about the thickness of two pencils several feet in front of you. As you approach it, it seems to be nothing more than...

"A piece of candy?"

"Liquorice. Pink liquorice, or raspberry to be specific." He's anticipating something. You have no idea what, but you can hear the waiting in his voice. "Dreadfully delicious and rather useful for a sweet."

"H-How is a bit of candy usefu-GAH!" You yell out as trip over, something that had coiled around your hurt calf muscle was tugging you backwards.

Adrenaline rushing through your body, you glance back over to your leg, only to find another lace of the neon-pink 'liquorice' wrapping tightly around your hurt foot. With no time to lose, you swing the large knife at it, and with a grunt, chop through the candy. It slices with ease, and you feel the pressure on your leg instantly drop.

Panting, you bring your body up, and look around, only to find more pieces of the pink stuff snaking out from under the ground. With wide eyes, you stare at them, wondering if you have gone crazy. But, judging by what the one that you had been forced to attack laying on the floor had done, this had to be real.

This was even stranger than the bunnies.

You begin to sprint off, but just as you pick up speed, you feel yourself trip up yet again. You fall flat on your front, your only source of protection falling out of your grasp as you feel your face suddenly flare up in pain from hitting the mysterious floor first.

You desperately try and shrug the pain off and wriggle up, but it is to no avail. More and more of those damned ropes of so-called candy tie themselves over your legs, constricting movement. You feel a sudden pinprick of hurt as you realise that some of the pieces of liquorice have small... Thorns on them.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, poppet!" He suddenly speaks up. "Some of those pieces of candy have a bit of poison in them. I'd keep them away from all open cuts if I were you."

Not much help when the thorns that dug into your skin were the cause of the 'open cuts', as you can feel them cutting in harder and hard as the coils wrap even tighter still. Hopelessly, you try and get out by flopping your body out of their reach, but as you see more get closer and slowly lose faith in actually keeping yourself alive.

But you're not going down without a fight. Crying out, you push your body in the direction of which you remember the cleaver was in. With nothing left to lose, you keep moving backwards, feeling the pink liquorice wrap so tightly around your legs, you almost feel as if it is cutting off your blood supply.

Groaning in pain from the harsh stinging of the thorns, you suddenly feel an intense amount of pain as you realise that the thorns have pierced your actual skin. You feel warm liquid rush down from the cuts, and glance down to see that it is in reality, your blood. You feel the wooden hand of the meat cleaver brush against your hand, and without hesitating pick the thing up.  
As you do this, you allow another one of the sweets to rope around your wrist in a way which traps your main usage of the weapon. You struggle against it, and when this fails, transfer the cleaver onto your other hand.

With this development, you desperately cut your main hand free and hold the cleaver with both, as you carelessly slash at the liquorice. You almost send the cleaver into your own leg at one point, but manage to protect yourself from this by diverting it slightly with your strength.

You somehow get back up, feeling so dizzy with fear that you almost vomit in the process, and chuck your body in the direction that you had previously been aiming to go in. Only to stop as you realise that the way was entirely covered in the snakes of liquorice.

You turn both ways to realise that you are completely surrounded in the maze, and feel completely hopeless as you anticipate your doom.

"Nice fight, sweetie. But what are you going to do now?"

You glance in both directions, watching as the living candy makes its way closer to you. You grip the meat cleaver as hard as you can, and evaluate your situation. Looking at any possible way out of the maze.

And then it strikes you.

"I..." You clear your throat. "I'm getting the hell out of here."

And then, you begin to cut into the bush wall, praying that it'll be the right way out.

**(TBC…)**

**A/N: So, the plot thickens with the introduction of Arthur (Yes, he was the 'mystery person'. I introduced him a chapter early, shoot me) and the first part of the 'maze' (or 'Labyrinth. Hurr Durr...), and yes, you will be going back into it in the following few chapters.**

**We're getting closer to the ending! :D**

**I have never felt so happy writing a fanfic. Thanks for all your reviews, I've tried to respond to all of them, and apologise if I missed you out.**

**Please Review if you have some criticisms or issues, or you just want to comment on story progress xD**

**-Socks**


	9. Chapter 9

"S-Stop that, poppet!" He shrieks, frustrated as you cut into the green bush with your large knife. The insides of the greenery turns out to be oddly prickly, and you can't help but to close your eyes and use your one free hand to shield your face as you push through. "That's cheating!"

"Do you really think I care?" You manage to yell back.

"Please! You don't know what you're doing, sweetheart!"

"I told you, I'm getting the hell out of here!" Suddenly, the meat cleaver creates a gap in the thick hedge. You desperately slash at it to make it wider, light flooding into view. He begs you to stop, but you take no notice of it. Not minding what was out there, you were cutting your way into sweet, sweet freedom.

Once the hole was just big enough to fit your midsection, you awkwardly push one of your legs through, crouching down as you make your way out of the damned thing. Your eyes scrunched shut, you bite your lip from the pain of the half-hacked bristles inside the opening scratching the living daylights out of any exposed skin.

You suddenly feel a new light touch your face, and a fresh, open breeze swoop across your body. Panting, you open your eyes and gaze in wonder as you realise from the look of your surroundings that you have somehow made it back into the same, deserted town you had been just before he had kidnapped you.

You give a giddy laugh, not caring about the labyrinth behind you, taking several steps forward, swinging the meat cleaver by your hip. You realise that _he_ has stopped talking. Perhaps he had given up on trying to keep you here? Perhaps he was planning to stop you? Either way, the only thing you cared about was getting away from him.

"Hey! Who's out there?"

You can practically feel your blood run cold as you hear a shout nearby. You don't move for a second, thinking that you've imagined it.

"...Erm, 'ello?"

You turn to your left, too shocked to breathe. You give a small gasp as you yourself suddenly facing another... Man, who had presumably appeared from around the corner. He wore a dark green military-style suit, with a dark two belts that wrapped around his body. He had a small, business-like suitcase in one hand, and a map in the other, looking more like a lost tourist than anything. Speechless, you nearly drop the cleaver as you feel him study you with an intent look. He seems almost as surprised as you, arms by his sides as he slowly begins to walk towards.

He's literally the same height as _him_. Similar hairstyle, too, were it not for this man's hair being light blond...

In fact, the man in front of you looks so similar to your captor, you probably would have mistook him for the other, had you not known that the psychopath was elsewhere, observing you through hidden cameras.

Oh wait, he had stopped talking through the speakers, hadn't he?

"I'm surprised to find anyone here. I heard something that sounded like yelling and screaming, so I came over. This place is meant to be deserted; certainly looks like it, eh?" He speaks as he approaches, moodily swaggering over. God, even his accent seems somewhat similar. "...Look at the state of you! You look like you've been in the bloody trenches! ...Is that blood over your face? Crikey. And, the... Erm, knife."

You feel and angry heat rise to your cheeks. It was _him_. In disguise. You were sure of it, as the resemblance was just too similar to be otherwise.

This was probably his last-ditch attempt to stop you from escaping. Well, you weren't having any of it! He was totally unarmed from what you could see, and this could be your last chance to get revenge on everything he had put you through in the past few days.

"H-Hey!.. What's with that look?" He asks as you raise your cleaver at him. Now that he's closer, you realise that his eyes are a forest-green rather than the all-too-bright pink and blue. How was that possible?

_He must be pretty rich or something if he's managed to build all the 'obstacles'. He's probably wearing colour-contacts to fool me, or something..._

"Stop acting like you're some different person!" You growl at him, taking several threatening paces forwards. His expression shifts from worry to confusion in mere seconds as you carry on. "You honestly think you can fool me by... Changing your hair and eye colour, huh?"

He raises a thick eyebrow and frowns, putting his hands up to try and show that he is of no harm. "W-What the hell are you on about? Are you mad?" He then gulps as he sees the blood-stained meat knife, and asks, worriedly. "Have we met before, or something?"

"Of course we fucking have!" You feel pretty frustrated at this point. "You're dead meat, okay? You've kidnapped me, put me through all this bullshit, don't even get me started on the _cupcakes_-"

"...Cupcakes?" His face becomes contorted with confusion, which then transforms into that of understanding. "I think I know what's going on, miss."

You swing at him, and he dodges away with a yelp, just in time. You scowl as you lift the knife up again, an odd, crazy sensation coursing through you. "You don't need to explain anything, you crazy bas-"

"Please! Just give me a minute! I think we have a common enemy, here."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Please do calm down, and let me explain what I think has happened before you try to... Stab me with that thing."

Still wary, you allow the meat cleaver to drop by your side, but still clutch the handle with an untrusting glare. "This better be a pretty good explanation."

He nods, and crosses his arms. "Let me introduce myself. The name is Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland. And please do relax, as I am certainly not the man you're after. I was called down here to investigate the disappearance of forty five people in this very area, and I assume that you are one of them. Are there any other kidnappees that you have met by any chance?"

You shake your head, suspicious. "How does this relate to this being proof of you not being _him_?"

"Right, well..." He clears his throat. "Try to keep an open mind as to what I am going to say next, as it may seem rather confusing or... Simply made up. The person you are currently referring to as you 'kidnapper' is... Kind of like me, but not. Basically-"

"**You!**" You both nearly jump as you hear a furious yell from behind. "Why are you here? You're going to ruin everything!"

You pivot on your heels to turn over and look at the sight of the psychopathic Englishman. In all honesty, he looked terrible. Dark circles loomed under his two-toned eyes, his hair was ruffled still and his attire, despite being a flashy suit, looked incredibly worn in. You suddenly suspected from his appearance that he had probably not slept for several days.

"Nice of you to join us,_Oliver_. I see you've been up to more kidnapping business." The other Brit replies cooly as you stare at the both of them in disbelief. So, Arthur had been telling the truth all along. And somehow seemed to know your captor. Who was now seemingly called 'Oliver'. You frown at learning his name, thinking that it sounds all too... Cute, and rather down to earth for a madman like him.

He pauses for a second, looking angry enough to snarl. But instead, he rubs his hands together and responds to the cool tone. "My name is not Oliver." He seems oddly bitter for a second, but then turns his glance from the man in the suit and brings it onto you, a smile suddenly curving on his lips. "You called him here, didn't you? How naughty."

"How the hell could I have called him to come here? There's no service around, anyway! Not to mention, I don't even have a phone!"

"Don't lie." His blue and neon pink gaze seems almost hypnotising, and you feel frozen as he glares at you.

"She isn't lying, wanker." You hear the blond behind you state, and you turn to face him as he speaks on. "I came here to investigate disappearances of various people, but I guess the culprit is rather obvious. I don't even want to know what you've been doing with them, but I guess I'm going to have to find out. Either way, I'm taking her with me, and getting the fuck out of this place."

"Really, now, Artie?" Before you have the time to react, you feel a sudden, forceful tug on your shoulder, pulling you backwards. You cry from the shock, suddenly sensing his odd sickly-sweet aroma as he pulls you all too close, holding your arms behind and constricting them of movement. He turned out to be oddly strong, despite his looks. You suddenly feel a harsh, cold stinging, in the middle of the length of your throat. "You've made quite the mistake coming over here. You can tell him that, can't you, poppet?"

You feel the blade of what you recognise to be the very same knife from before press tightly against your neck. He speaks again. "Go on, tell him."

You close your eyes, and let go of your pride and shakily obey. "...You've made a... Mistake, Arthur."

"What are you doing?" Arthur cries out, shocked at the sudden development. "Unhand the lady, immediately!"

"Shh..." You hear him whisper, the sound making you shiver slightly. "You want to keep her alive? You may want to listen up. I think that we ought to play a bit of a game to break the ice."

"No!" You can't stop yourself from yelling out. You knew too much about his 'games' to allow yourself to be slotted back into another one, especially as freedom had been so close!

"Come on, now, darling. Yelling isn't lady-like, at all." The knife at your throat feels painful now, and you sniff slightly as you hold back frustrated tears. This is the second time that you've wanted to cry today, and you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you do so. "It's up to him to decide whether he wants to play along or not. If he doesn't, however, I'm going to slice this knife into your rather delicate throat."

"What kind of choice is this, anyway?-"

"You have three seconds."

"I can't!-"

"One."

"But, her life!-"

"Two."

"_Wanker_."

"_Two and a half.._"

"Alright, fine!" He stomps his foot on the ground with annoyance. "I'll play along."

"Splendid! Well, put your bland briefcase down, and your hands out in front of you. We don't want you cheating, like she did. How silly of her."

Arthur gently places down the suitcase in front of him, and suspiciously holds his uncovered hands out. "What, are you going to make me tie them up or something?"

"Kind of like that." He giggles, and with a flash, takes the knife and slashes at the other Brit's outstretched hands with a chef-like fashion before you can do anything. Arthur yells in pain, buckling down from it, but it brought to the ground as 'Oliver' kicks him, first in the chest, and then once or twice in his face. You only now realise that he somehow took the meat cleaver out of your grip, probably when he had you at knife-point. "You dare look at my property again, and I won't let you join in, got it?"

"S-Shit! Agh! You fucking git!" The seemingly only 'sane' Brit was rolling around in pain, the blood from his hands mixing with the dirt on the floor. "What the bloody fuck was that for?"

"To make you understand that she is mine. My property. My toy." He smiles. "And I saw the way you were looking at her. And you call yourself a gentleman? Get up."

He shakily gets off the floor, probably in fear of getting hurt again. His hands are covered in crimson, but rather than looking at them, he steals a glance at you. You feel a guilty shudder, and bite your lip. 'Oliver' points at him to move forward and pushes you to give you the indication that you should be walking in the same direction.

You move along, and the three of you move forwards in complete and utter silence. Several yards in front of you, an odd building suddenly comes in view, the maze actually somehow leading into it. The building is made up of what seems to be a large square of glass, but tinted black. You cannot see into it, and already guess that you cannot see out, either.

"Had you survived the beginning of the maze, you would have ended up here." He murmurs as you all get nearer to it. You can suddenly see the faint outline of a door, and your heart begins to pound. "Nobody's ever gotten this far. This is the end, for both of you."

"Whatever, you idiot. We don't need you bringing our morale down." Arthur retorts, bringing a small, sad smile to your lips. You got the idea that you were supposed to die in this place, but with Arthur hopefully by your side, neither of you will go down swinging.

"All because of your disruption," He replies, tone of a school teacher telling off a misbehaved boy. "You get to go in first."

He opens the door by an odd metal handle. It is pitch black inside; you can't even see the floor. You catch sight of the uniformed man's expression, and your heart sinks. He looks rather terrified, but then puts on a brave face and walks towards the door before turning to you and nodding a brief goodbye.

You feel hopeless when you see him suddenly be engulfed by the dark, second part of the maze, and look at 'Oliver', who is now pacing towards you.

"Your turn, poppet."

"Got it." You walk towards the door, but then pause as a hand is laid on your shoulder.

You make the mistake of turning around, only to suddenly find his lips meeting yours. Unlike the last kiss, which had been desperate and sloppy, this seemed much more controlled and soft. Still unwanted from you, mostly from the shock that he was actually kissing you again, but rather than force himself into your mouth, he gently seemed to locket with his own.

It's over quickly, with him dragging himself away, rather than being pushed like last time. Your eyes scan his oddly concerned expression, mysterious eyes and freckled cheeks. Why was it only now that you could feel the intense heat of the blush spreading across your face like wildfire? You look him dead in the eye and whisper the question, "_ Who are you, anyway?_"

He tilts his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

You have no idea what you mean by the question yourself. It just seemed like an appropriate thing to say. "Uh, you... You said your name isn't Oliver. What is it?"

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. "I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

You nearly do a spit-take at that. "But he's..."

"I know. We both are. Kind of." He then shrugs and gives you a devilish grin. "I'm just the better one."

"You wis-" You feel him give you a sudden push, and your body falling backwards and into the dark building. The last thing you see before he shuts the door is a strange look of upset on his face, his eyes pained and his mouth in a delicate frown.

"See you later, poppet."


	10. Chapter 10

_A sea._

Sea of absolute, pitch black.

You are frozen in the dark for a few moments. You couldn't see anything around you, not even your own hand. And it scared you; you had no idea if you were standing next to a pit with spikes at the bottom, or if there was anything lurking about. You were in here for one reason, and that was to probably die in a way most entertaining for him.

_"See you later, poppet."_

It seemed like a promise to meet again. Or, well, maybe more of a hint. He had said it with sad uncertainty that was certainly not like him, or at least you thought it wasn't like him.

Then again, how well did you know the man? You had only learnt his actual name a brief few moments ago.

"He's certainly got a liking to you, hasn't he?"

You let out a scream as you hear a voice from behind you, twirling your body to its direction. However, because you can't see anything, it's a pretty useless action. You quickly remember who the voice belongs to, and try and calm down.

"A-Arthur?"

"Give me one second. It's a bit... Heh, hard to see. Try and calm down, I think I can locate you."

You feel a something brush against you, and use all your might to not jump in reaction. Instead, you tense up and bite your lip. You hear a strange sound, as if two small bits of metal were scraping against each other. A sudden spark lights up the darkened world around you, and you suddenly find yourself face-to-face with the gentleman, both of your faces highlighted by the fire of a cigarette lighter.

"Better?"

You shiver. "Yeah, much. Thanks."

"I wonder where we have to go." He looks around the dark abyss around you. It's almost as if you're standing in a world of nothing but darkness and cigarette lighter light. "Fucking git didn't even give us any instructions this time. Oh well, let's just walk forwards until we hit a wall or something."

You feel him grab you by your shoulder, and look to him, alarmed. He gives you an apologetic frown under the fire-light. "My apologies if I'm acting in a way you don't like. I don't usually grab people like this, but we are in a bit of a dire situation, it seems. It'd be best if we didn't get separated."

You find yourself hastily nodding, keeping yourself close to him. It felt quite nice actually having someone with you, a stranger or not, rather than going through the challenges. More hopeful, and less... Well, lonely. One thing still clung to your mind. "Hey, Erm... I hope you don't mind me asking, but how do you know... Him? The other, Erm, Arthur?"

"What, Oliver?"

"Yeah," You give a small smile. "Also, why do you call him that?"

He pauses to think for a second and then replies. "I won't be able to tell you much, unfortunately. That information is highly classified, and belongs to the British-"

"Please?" You desperately interrupt him. He gives you an annoyed look, which softens as you carry on. "Look, I've had to be with him, and he... Confuses me. I've been trying to work him out, work out why he's doing all of this and... It's obvious I'm not going to get much about his past from him, and you're kind of the only link I've got. We've been put in this place to die, and there's a big risk we probably won't be getting out, and... I guess I'd feel better knowing why he's put me through all this..."

He rolls his eyes, and sighs, tightening his grip on you slightly. "I can't tell you everything. But I'll try and condense it; I don't know what you've been through. And from the state of you, I probably don't want to. But I guess you deserve it. Now, keep your ears open, as I'm only going to say all of this once, alright?"

"Thanks." You take this as a small victory.

"My pleasure, miss. Right, first of all, I will only ever call him Oliver. Mainly because it's easier to differentiate him from me that way and... I don't want to call him Arthur." He seems oddly bitter as he walks, gritting his teeth for a brief moment, the carrying on. "As for our background... Hm, let's just say that I'm the person who always gets sent to do the oddest jobs."

"I take it that you're in the military?"

"Yes, something like that. Except... Not. Now, listen. The first time I met this man, I was nearly arrested and killed-"

"Wait, what?"

He thinks for an explanation. "The times were different when this happened, people could still get the death penalty-"

"Holy-! How old are you?"

He frowns grumpily, and you suddenly get the idea that this isn't the first time this question has been asked of him. "That is a very rude question. Old enough. Anyway, we worked out that he was... Very similar to me. But... Barking mad. But, I don't think that I need to quite explain that to you, do I? Anyway, we got into a bit of a fight, things didn't turn out well for either of us, but being more advanced at magi-... Fighting, I got him in the end. But, he... Did something and made a quick getaway, running like a bloody mongrel with a tail between his legs. We've been... Enemies? Yeah, enemies since."

You stop walking and give him a blank look. "...I'm even more confused now. That story literally made no sense."

"I never said it would. But I apologise if it was a bit hard to understand. Like I said, the law makes it so that I cannot tell you the entire thing." He said, looking down. Probably ashamed at his feeble explanation of his past. "I guess I'm allowed to say that he's held... Hostages before. But never been as attached to them as he's to you."

"W-What are you talking about?" You blurt out, trying to deny the signs of attraction the psycho had shown to you over the past few days.

He holds his bloody hands up, you cringe at the sight. It's stopped bleeding and kind of hard to see, but you don't want to keep looking. "With all due respect, I believe my blood-covered hands are more than enough proof. And I wasn't even... 'Looking' at you. I have more decency as a gentleman to do that. Plus, he outright declared you his property... And, uh, well... Don't think I didn't hear you two snogging outside!"

"Shut up!" You snap, embarrassed. But then give a harsh sigh.

He raises a thick eyebrow. "I take it that wasn't the first time he's... Embraced you like that."

"He's kissed me before, if that's what you mean." You reply. "But..."

"But...?"

"He... He mainly said 'odd' things. I think he called me 'delectable' once. And admitted to... Liking me a little bit too much." Well, you weren't lying. "He made me eat cupcakes... And I think that he put aphrodisiac in them. I-I'm not sure what he was planning to do... I mean, I stopped him! But he said that... The stuff should've 'worked better'."

"...Oh." He gasps, concerned. "Hey. He... Didn't do... Anything, did he? Like..."

You shake your head quickly. "No. I mean, I don't think so. I hope not."

He thinks for a moment, and then slowly processes an idea from his brain. "You know, maybe we could use his attraction as an advanta-"

However, he is stopped mid-sentence as he hits something and almost falls over. You support him up, and look at what he hit. From closer inspection, you see that it is a 'wall' of sorts. Covered by an odd, almost carpet-like texture rather than wall-plaster. You look at him. "Are you alright?"

"I guess. I could have sworn there was nothing there, though..." He then looks around, and gasps. "H-hey, look. You can... See our surroundings now. Either our eyes have become accustomed to the dark, or..."

"The room has gotten a lot smaller."

"Indeed. Hey, look! Is that an opening to another room?" You both briskly get near it, and realise that he is correct. He furrows his brows as he speculates the way out. "Do you think that going there is safe?"

"Either that or the shrinking room..."

"Good point." He nods, leading you in. "Let's keep calm and carry on, huh? Best way to go about it, if you ask me."

He holds the cigarette lighter up, walking through the strange pathway with (hot pink) carpeted walls. The path is incredibly short, and leads into a room which is...

"Exactly the same!" He exclaims. "It's like we never left. The door is in the same place as in the last room, too."

"Except..." You trail off, looking at what you could see with the dim light.

"It's smaller." He finishes your sentence, also gazing about the room. "Seems to be a bit of a re-occuring theme in this place. Suspiciously so."

"You don't think...?"

"I have no proof, or concrete idea, but I'm beginning to suspect something."

"Let's carry on." You wrap your arms around yourself. "I swear this place was a whole lot bigger when we came in."

He seems to agree, and with a nod of his head, carries on with a faster pace. You feel an odd dread slowly drape over you, as if something bad was going to happen, and happen very soon. His grip was still on you, but much lighter, and almost polite. Putting as little pressure as he possibly could. A sign that almost said, 'I'm sorry I have to do this, but we're in this together and this is the only way we'll pull through'. And for the most part, it was relatively comforting.

But that feeling of comfort diminished when you both came into the fourth room. It was only half the size of the original room, and as you came in, you saw something new on the floor. The Brit noticed this, too and asked, pointing at the indistinguishable objects on the floor. "Hey, do you see that?

"What is it?"

He approached the things with caution. He then knelt down and pointed the cigarette lighter at them. He had let go of you, as because the room was so small, the light of the lighter was enough to fill it. "Oh God." He remarks, with disbelief in his tone. "He's given us a... Slingshot. A bloody slingshot. What am I? Dennis the Menace?"

You give him a confused look, thinking that he's kidding, but then he holds the 'weapon' up. You stifle a giggle, "W-What? Why would he give us that?"

"Don't ask me." He gets back up, holding the infantile weapon with one hand, and the lighter in the other. "It's not much use, anyway. There's no ammo. Except, uh, a few... Gumballs?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Miss, do I look like I'm kidding?" He rolls his eyes and holds up a plastic bag with a few multicoloured spheres inside. "I guess that's the ammunition, then. Not much to work with."

You shrug. It certainly seemed like something the other Arthur would pull off. "I guess you could pull off some damage with those things?"

He's about to reply, but then frowns, and looks up, only to find the hot pink ceiling a centimetre or two above his nose. "...There's something wrong with this picture."

You bend down a bit, and feel yourself get quite alarmed. "I think something's up. Something bad."

He starts to take a few steps forward, to the next carpeted corridor. "The room is shrinking. Bad? You don't say?"

You follow him, grimacing at the sarcasm. "I'm sorry."

He gives you a softened look of worry, and then replies. "Don't be. My fault for snapping, but it's quite alarming when the ceiling above is shrinking down by the minute. Now, look; I'm getting both of us out of here. Or... I'll try and keep you alive for as long as possible."

"Pretty heavy promise, there." You raise an eyebrow. "You sound like some comic book hero."

"Hm, well..." He gives a sentimental half-smile. "I... Know someone who likes to pretend that he is one. I think I finally understand why he does, though. It's quite a nice feeling, knowing that you're helping someone out, putting them before you."

"Why would you want to put me before you?"

He thinks for a moment, and responds only after crouching down, as the ceiling is much too close for comfort, as are the walls. "I kind of owe you. You seemed to be making a pretty good getaway from this horrid place, had I not been in the way and delayed you. We were pretty close to the train station, so with a bit of luck, you could have been on your way to Paddington right now."

You freeze up. You had been that... That close to freedom? "R-Really?" You bite your lip. Hard. It was... Unfair. Unfair that you now knew that if you had exited the maze only a few minutes before, you could have total and utter freedom.

"Hey." You hear his refined accent speak, and look up. "You aren't crying, are you? Oh heavens, I probably shouldn't have told you, should I?"

You certainly want to cry, but decide to shake your head. "No, I'm fine." You lie. "Sorry. We'd best keep moving, otherwise we'll be trying to get around on our hands as knees!"

"Let's hope it won't get that bad."

However, much to your horror, as you carry on, you find that it does get **that bad**. You end up crawling on your hands and knees, into a tunnel-like space was giving you more than mild claustrophobic shocks, as you suddenly find it hard to breathe. Your arms and legs are tightly compacted into the space, as you scramble along. It's become dark again, as Arthur takes lead, holding the lighter to navigate around.

"Hurry! If we don't get out soon, we'll get stuck!" He yells, the air around you was getting stuffier and stuffier by the mere second. You want to stop and get fresh air back into your lungs, but it is to no avail. You have to keep going, or you will simply die here.

"Aaugh!" You hear him suddenly hit... The floor? Another room? Whatever the case, he was no longer in front of you.

"Quick, hurry! There's another room here! And, there's space! Just a bit more!"

The walls are quickly compressing around you, causing you to panic. "I don't think I'm going to make it!"

"Please! You're nearly there!"

You try and move forwards, but feel your back completely stuck. "Arthur! Help! I can't move! It hurts!"

"Hold on! Try and keep moving!"

You feel something, or someone quickly grab your two arms, and pull you forwards. It hurts like hell, but it works, and your body is slowly pulled away. You suddenly feel the walls around you no longer there, and your body collapse on the floor of another room. You both pant as you catch your breath and recover from the shock of nearly being compressed to death.

"T-That wasn't a nice experience, I will admit..." He finally says through heavy breaths. "At least... It's over, huh?"

You know that isn't probably true, but it's nice to hope. "Y-Yeah..."

You suddenly freeze with cold horror, and stop panting. Eyes wide, you find yourself gazing at the other end of the room.

_No! Oh, God. It can't be..._

"Oi, you look as if you've seen a ghost. We'll be okay! We're out of the strange, compressing maze, aren't we?"

"A-Arthur..." You whisper, unmoving. Eyes still looking at the end of the room. "_This isn't over..._"

"What's wrong?" He asks, following your gaze with a questioning frown. "Oh, hey! Look! A bunny!"

(TBC…)

**A/N: And this is the part where you play the 'OH MY GAAAAAAWWWDDD!1! clip from Trolls 2. Because it kinda works in xD**

**Ack! Sorry about the wait!  
And uh, about the total OOC'ness of Arthur D;  
I would have done this sooner, but the revision/studying for French oral exam (yeah, I know how... Inappropriate that name is. Especially with France there, too xD) took up all my time. Oh well, school is nearly over! Yay!**

...And so is this fic!

Why is that making me so upset? ;w;  
Oh well. It still has a little while to go! xD

So, we get some rather non-sensical backstory of the situation from Arthur, the room starts to FUCKING SHRINK and...  
OH GOD, THE RABBITS HAVE RETURNED.

How will it go next? Find out in the next chapter! ;D


	11. Chapter 11

The world suddenly ground down to a sluggish halt. You find your breathing almost stop as you freeze in shock. The mammal hops about slightly, black nose twitching in manner that was most despicably adorable. Arthur walks forwards, a strange smile spread across his otherwise 'grumpy' face. "I certainly didn't expect to see one of these in here!"

"Arthur, get away from it!"

"Shush, now." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "I think I can deal with a rabbit, for God's sakes!" He brings the cigarette lighter forwards to highlight the creature; the rabbit itself seems to be quite used to the darkness and shrinks away. One fact suddenly becomes very apparent, so much so that Arthur actually ends up taking a step back in surprise. "_Flying mint bunny_?"

"...Wait, what?"

"Look at it! It's green! But it... Doesn't seem to have wings. My mistake."

While you were questioning the existence of a _green_rabbit (Wait, what was that he had said about... Wings?), one which was probably as vicious as the one in the forest, he proceeded to get near it. "It looks kind of scared."

You shakily bring your body up and off the floor, and try to warn him again. "No! These rabbits are... Really fucking bad!"

"Nonsense." He gives you a look that practically asks 'and what drugs are you on?'. "Why are you so scared? They're pretty harmless, I mean, look at it!"

He bends down to try and pet it, but the creature instead takes a small step back, and growls. Arthur freezes, and slowly turns his head top face you, drawing his hand back. "...Was it just me, or did the bunny in front of me just...?"

"Growl." You give a brisk nod. "I advise you to get the hell away from it. Now."

Slow as ever, he takes a few steps backwards, standing taller with every move and with his hands held protectively in front of him. The 'bunny' snarls still, seemingly waiting for the precise moment to move.

"I take it from those _fangs_that the bugger is carnivorous?" He mutters the question, with an expression of thought which makes you assume that he is planning on a way to exit the room without getting killed. Considering that the door to the following room is literally behind the creature, you realise this may prove to be quite problematic.

"A group of them tried to chase me down, so I guess that may unfortunately be the case." You nod, not letting your eyes wander off the animal. "They also have retractable claws. I kinda got the idea that _he_must've made them or something. He called them his 'pets', anyway."

"Wait, what? Why would you do that?" The Englishman yelped, turning his head to you while exaggeratedly waving his arms in surprise. This was enough to spook the animal, and cause it to leap at the man. With wide eyes, you instinctively sprint towards Arthur and push him out of the way.

This action probably saved his life from the jaws of a rather monstrous, oddly coloured rabbit, but ends up getting you into trouble as the rabbit hits you instead. It does a quick job of sinking the fearsome-looking teeth into the exposed part of your upper body (just a few centimetres off of your chest) while you're unstable. Both the pain and surprise of the attack send your body to the ground, however, as you fall to the ground, the awkward stance you are in from trying to push the Englishman away ends up working against you, as during the fall, it traps itself onto the ground and twists awkwardly.

You hear a small 'crack' and yell in pain as a sudden and extreme pain flares up inside your right knee. You're probably also yelling because of the rabbit trying to eat you, but the pain of your kneecap surprisingly ends up being slightly more shocking.

You are in too much pain to roll around like you did last time, but as you feel the teeth and claws try to rip at your flesh, you try to desperately throw the bunny off.

**BANG!**

You freeze as a loud gunshot ripples through the condensed room, and suddenly feel the creature on you stop moving. You feel a slight bit of warm wetness, blood, on your clothing and shrieking, throw the still rabbit off with disgust.

Sobbing from the shock and the pain, you only now realise three things:

One, your face is practically drenched in hot tears, and you're still crying.

Two, you had been crying out for help the entire time, in a manner that was probably quite pathetic.

And three, Arthur now seemed to be equipped with a small pistol that was pointed at where the rabbit had previously been, holding the small fire in his other palm.

He stares at you with wide eyes and also seems to be panting; but calms down quicker than you and bends down with concern to try and console your tears.

"H-Hey… Are you a-alright?"

You find yourself crying harder, but don't look up as you hear him tear something. You feel a strange bit of fabric being placed below your neck, and wince in pain as you feel pressure being applied to new cuts.

"I apologise. I may get sent to do odd jobs, but nursing isn't exactly my talent." He whispers as you finally stop your erratic breathing. "How does that feel?"

"It hurts like hell." You reply, finding your voice. "Thanks for… Killing it."

"What else could I have done?" He replies, trying to stop the bleeding by patting the cuts.

"You could have ran. The exit is right over there."

"Rubbish." He shakes his head. "I'm a gentleman, aren't I? We don't ditch ladies in the face of battle. But I wasn't expecting it to go down so easily. Good luck, that."

"That reminds me." You're still shaken up, but feel slightly bolder. "S-Since when did you have a gun on you? I thought we only had a slingshot."

He shrugs. "Magic."

"No, really. Where the hell did you get it from?"

"I already gave you the answer."

You give him a quizzing look, and decide to not ask any more as he doesn't seem to be willing to give you the _correct_explanation. He puts the weapon into the pocket of his dark green uniform (which you notice, has a chunk missing from the right hand side and realise that the 'bandage' he is now tying around your neck is actually a part of) and stands back up, offering you a hand.

"We can't stay down here for too long. Come on, up you get, miss."

"Erm,... I-I don't think I can."  
His eyes travel down to your exposed kneecaps and widen. He looks back up at you with a half apologetic cringe and slowly nods. "I... See."

You frown and try to bend your knees (as your skirt is too puffed up to allow you to see down there) to get a sight of what has happened, but the action causes immediate pain. He bends down quickly and places a light hand on your midsection.

"I urge you to stay down for just a moment, miss. There's something I think I have to do."

Suspicious, you give a small nod. "W-What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just best that I give it a small once-over before we move on. May I?"

"Sure, I guess." It hurts when you feel him shakily put a hand on your leg, putting a small bit of pressure on a strangely numb part below your knee. The room around you gets slightly darker as he brings the cigarette lighter down to examine your leg.

"I apologise for what I'm about to do."

"What do you mea-AUGH!" You cry out as he briskly does something inside of your leg, without breaking skin. As if he moves a part of it from the outside. It's more shocking than anything, but the sudden pain is almost unbearable. You swear you hear a small 'pop' and he briskly lifts his hand off. He almost instantly brings you into a strange embrace, almost as if to say sorry and gives you an almost parent-like 'shhhh'.

Once you calm down, you look him in the eyes. "W-What did you do?"

He looks almost pained. "It was dislocated. Your kneecap, I mean. The only way it'd heal is if I put it back into place. I'm not sure how we're going to get out of here, but I don't think you're going to be able to walk for a few weeks or so at least..."

You feel your breath hitch, and look down at your legs with horror. "B-But... How am I going to get out?"

"I guess I'll have to... Carry you or something."

You give him a concerned look; he doesn't look particularly strong, and you don't think he'll be able to manage very well. However, he seems to have almost read your mind as he replies. "Don't worry about it. I raised a child who I still had to carry around when he was in his teens. And the lad was pretty heavy. It'll be fine."

This surprises you. He has a fairly 'ageless' face, however, you didn't think he'd be old enough to have children or of the sort. You let it slip by, anyway, and allow him to gently try and pick you up. It's difficult and awkward for him to get you off the ground, but after a five or so minute struggle, he somehow manages to get you on him in a 'piggy-back' position. He gives you the cigarette lighter to hold, which you try and position well over his head, so that he can see forwards. The room itself isn't that big, so the light makes almost everything visible.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." You assure him, and he slowly begins to walk. It's quite difficult at first, and he keeps on having to push you up slightly, which brings pain to your knee every time. However, when he gets the hang of it, it isn't too bad.

After a while of going through one identical room to the next, he finally says."You know, if the rooms start shrinking again, we're in quite big trouble."

"I'd say." You nod, dreading the thought of the combined space again. "Let's hope that it isn't the case."

You keep the idle chatter going as you progress on. You can hardly call the place a 'maze', as you're going only from one room to the next, but you soon lose track of how many rooms you have gone through. One thing gets pretty apparent, however.

"Is it just me, or are the rooms... Getting bigger?"

"Oh God." You gasp. "I was just about to say that. You don't think...?"

"I don't _think_." He replies. "I know. But what would be the purpose of making the rooms larger? Getting compressed was an issue beforehand when the rooms were shrinking."

He carries you into a room that is noticeably larger than the previous. So much so, that the light from your small fire can only make about half of it visible. "We may end up getting lost if the room gets any bigger."

"Not a good development." He replies, hurrying slightly. However, this seems to not help him, as by the time you get to the next room, you can only see the wall that is closest, as it is illuminated by the miniature fire. You get a spooked chill, and try to wave the small lighter to try and make some more visibility, but it is to no avail.

"...What if there's more rabbits around here?" You ask, a fear that you hoped would not show very apparent in your voice.

"I'll get rid of them, don't you worry." He says, his voice echoing slightly in the space. "Do you think he's controlling the rooms? Like, the size and all."

"How else are they conveniently changing size?"

"He must have cameras dotted around, or something."

"He had them put up everywhere on the outside. And speakers. That's how he kept in contact with me as he made me do stuff. It was pretty weird, not being able to see him, but knowing that he was still watching me from afar."

He carries on walking, and then stops, looking around in the darkness that was beyond the light of the fire from the cigarette lighter. "Hey, do you want the good news or bad news?"

"It's best to get the bad out of the way. What is it?"

"Two things, actually." He replies, looking about. "Firstly, there is no good news, and we're completely and utterly lost. In the dark."

"...Oh."

"Indeed. Although, I do believe that as long as we keep going in one direction, we must at some point, hit a wall of some kind."

You give a small nod. "Seems to make sense. Are you okay?"

"I'm living, aren't I? And I'm not alone. I'll be fine either way. I have an increased chance of survival compared to you, anyway."

It's not a malicious fact, but its frankness stings either way. "And why is that the case?"

He suddenly stops, and doesn't reply for a good few minutes as he thinks of a reply. "I can walk."

You realise that, yet again, he is hiding something. But it isn't really your business to investigate such matters, so you try and accept it. "I suppose. You've been carrying me for a fair while. Aren't you tired?"

"No pain, no gain." He laughs, and then says "...If that makes sense for this situation. I've gone through worse." His voice doesn't even seem strained, despite having carried you about for the past hour or so without putting you down for a second. "Plus, the sooner this is over, the better."

"If it'll ever be over."

He stops. "Don't you dare say that. I will get you out of here, if it's the last thing I do. This will all be over soon; just try and bear it, for now. For me. Alright?"

"...Alright."

He keeps moving forward. You have no idea where his determination could come from, but he somehow manages to keep going forward in the odd, gentleman-like fashion. Had you already not completely lost track of time, you certainly would have done so now.

It seems almost like an eternity until he speaks again. "How do you suppose we are going to get out of here? All the rooms look the same, if not different in size or shape. Are we aiming to try and find an exit of sorts, or are we going to have to confront Oliver?"

"...I don't know."

"Well, maybe, he's just toying around with us. He's got to be watching or something, so there could be a possibility that this place is meant to be totally aimless. I mean, imagine going through it alone. Not only would one possibly not even survive, but go completely bonkers while at it."

"That's... Actually a pretty smart theory." You reply, finding yourself quite spooked by the idea. "Maybe his aim was to make anyone who'd gone as far in as this as crazy as... Him."

"Heh, what can I say? Being smart is important." The Brit replies, but then drops the mild cheer in his voice. "I get where you're coming from on that point. But... Why would he want to do that to anyone? What could he be aiming for?"  
You find yourself intrigued by the question, and think about it to pass the time. "Hm... Maybe... Well, maybe he feels as if he's the only real 'crazy' one around. And he wants to make someone that's tough enough to get through the challenges as mad as him to understand... Him."

You hear a surprised murmur from him, as he absorbs your idea and then responds, "Interesting. You're proposing that he's doing all this just to bring a person to his 'level'. That'd actually quite make sense if you think about it; he's trying to perfect a companion for himself by molding them to his will by cutting them off from the rest of the world. Any which would not have been able to comply to his standards would have been killed earlier off by being too weak to get through their challenges. Therefore, at the end of it all, he would have ended up with the perfect person."

"I haven't met anyone else here, and he's told me I'm the only one who's made it this far. Ever."

"Indeed. If we do go by this rather odd theory, then we can safely assume that if we do make it out of this stage, which he has told us is the final, then you, my dear, will be the person he sees as... Well, perfect."

Your jaw drops. "But, I've only made it up to here through sheer luck!"

"Irrelevant. You as a person have still made it here. To this point. A feat that no-one else has been able to accomplish." He seems mildly pleased with himself as he talks on. "He seems rather attracted to you. Possibly, because you've managed to make so much progress, he's created such a connection to the fact that you're nearly his idea of 'perfection', a status you have attained by going through the challenges, that you've become precious to him."

"That's absurd!-"

"Listen, I'm just speaking hypothetically. What if, that's the reason why he finds you his property, huh? Because you're quite the so-called 'rare specimen'. By this theory, in his eyes, you are ideal. And all he has to now do, is crack that mind of yours, so that you can be bonkers together."

You stay silent. This 'theory' that he was conjuring up made too much sense, and you hated it. You weren't sure if you wanted to know why this was all happening to you, and bringing the other Arthur's psychology into it made it even spookier for some reason.

**Clang!**

You find yourself almost falling backwards as the Brit stumbles around after hitting something solid. However, he regains his balance, uttering more than a few bits of obscene language.

"What was that?"

"I may have found the wall. Odd, though, it seems that the weird, pink carpet crap is now rather cold and solid. Wait a second, put some light directly in front of me, will you?"

"Sure." You lean forwards with the lighter and both of you find yourself gasping as you find a metal door, cutting into the walls of pink. It's fairly bare, with three slits around the toppermost part and a small, neon-pink lock on the side.

"Holy shit." Arthur mutters, so quiet that he is only audible to begin with, then exclaims louder. "Holy shit! We found a bloody door!"

"...What if it's a trap?"

"Why else would it have a lock on it? We probably weren't supposed to be able to find it."

"Still..."

"What if it's a fire-door or something? It'd be a step closer to freedom!"

" How are we even going to open it? There's a lock there."

"Hello? I have a gun." He replies, carefully searching his pocket with one hand. Making sure to still support you up. "We're nearly out of this place!"

You feel an odd sensation of excitement rise within you, stomach fluttering with hypothetical butterflies. If what Arthur said was correct, you'd really be out of this place! Freedom at last!

A few gunshots slice through the air, as he shoots at the lock, shattering it, and then the hinges. You cover up your ears in fright, and stop when you feel him move forward and give a mighty kick to the door.

A sudden light almost blinds you both, and adrenaline causes you to almost start shaking. Liberty, only mere footsteps away.  
However, something seems rather wrong.

"This is the dimmest daylight I've ever seen." Arthur says, after he manages to bring himself to 'see' again.

"Never mind that!" You yelp. "Just get away from this place. Please!"

He nods, and carries you forwards. You enter a narrow corridor, with a strange, almost synthetic light at the end. You remain hopeful despite this.

However, Arthur stops dead in his tracks as he approaches the end of it. You wonder why, and try to glance over his shoulder, and almost instantly wish that you had not.

_"Nice of you to join me again, poppet."_

_(TBC...)  
_

**A/N: My FF.N page on my computer is being dodgy, so sorry if I haven't quite gotten my messages through. **

**We have some rather 'exciting' developments here, anyway.  
**

**Mainly involving dislocated kneecaps and slingshots being transformed into guns.**_**  
**_

_**...Did I really just write that? Really?  
**_

**Well, this is a fic involving killer bunnies and liquorice coming to life. It's pretty much anything BUT normal.  
**

**We're getting close to the end, dear readers!  
**

**Person to guess the next part of the story gets an amazing cookie. *Nom.*  
**

**See you all later!  
**

**-Socks**_**  
**_


	12. Chapter 12

You suddenly realise that the 'light' that was now causing you to squint your eyes was coming in directly from a bunch of high-tech looking monitors, all messily stacked against the other wall, while the other man sits in front of them, in a large pink chair that by the looks of the bottom section, can probably swivel around. As you find yourself looking into them, you realise that they are all displaying different parts of the maze. The walls themselves seem to be painted a messy white, with dark stains covering the four walls; while the floor is of creaky-looking wooden planks.

"You!" Arthur practically _snarls_ at the man turned away from him while threateningly raising the gun. "Get out of our way, let us escape and I might not shoot you!"

The other Arthur doesn't reply. Or turn about. Instead, the room slows down to a rather awkward and still silence. You find yourself clutching harder to the Brit carrying you on his back, anticipating something to happen. You hated these kinds of 'pauses'. Something disastrous always seemed to follow them.

The man holding you seems to have had enough of the quiet and yells out again. "Turn when I'm talking to you! We're through with playing your sick little game. Tell us how to get out of this building before I have to cause you harm!"

Arthur seems rather frustrated and furious at this point, however, seems to instantly drop the attitude when his 'counterpart' replies not at first with words, but a rather delighted giggle. Which then grows in volume, before quieting down again and is replaced with an oddly content sigh. "You aren't going to shoot me, Arthur Kirkland."

"What do you mean, you git? Of course I am! Now drop your crazy drivel, and give me my bloody answers!"

"If you try and pull that trigger, I'll eat my hat." He seems to completely dismiss the comment, and keeps on talking without even bothering to turn around. "You probably couldn't bring yourself to shoot anyone, could you? Not only does it go against your so-called 'ethics', but both you and I know that you are not a trigger-happy fiend. Maybe it's also a bit of cowardice?"

"S-Shut up!" He cries out, indignantly. He takes a shaky step forward and carries on. "I am not a coward, and this is your last warning. I want you to stand up, put your hands on your head and walk towards me, very slowly."

"You seem to change your desires very quickly, Artie-boy." Gleeful as ever and still turned away, he doesn't even seem to be phased by the fact that he was being threatened at unseen-gunpoint. "Just a second you only wanted answers. Now you want me to get towards you? Do make up your mind."

"Shut up and do as you're told! Are you forgetting that I am at a total advantage here?"

You feel your blood run cold when 'Oliver' laughs again. This time, it isn't a giggle, or a usual amused-yet-mad cackle. No, his laugh seems dark. The kind of noise that somehow has the ability to absorb all happiness and hope from a person in an instant. "Haha! Oh, heavens! You… You honestly think that your little pistol gives you an advantage? Goodness, I always knew you were one for roughhousing, especially so for a so-called 'gentleman'; nevertheless, you may have gotten a few too many braincells knocked out from all that nonsense. Whatever the case may be, you are most mistaken to think that a firearm can give you any advantage in your position."

Even Arthur himself seems to have been drained of his somewhat confident manner, and stays silent as the other carries on. "You've forgotten where you are, it seems. You are both in my world, which carries many more secrets than I'll ever let on. I guess I'll just have to put you back into your place."

You have no real clue what it is that the crazed man does, but it ends up causing all the lights from the monitor to suddenly flicker off, darkening the room in a creepy instant. In surprise, you feel the cigarette lighter drop onto the ground, and your surroundings are completely pitch black.

**BANG! BANG!**

You nearly fall off in surprise as you hear the loud shots of Arthur's hand-gun; however, after the sound ricochets around the confined room, only the sound of the computers 'whirring' can be heard. You feel Arthur turn around a bit, to try and make out where the other had gone.

You are just about to question him whether he thinks that he had actually managed to hit the madman with his bullets, when you practically sense something behind you both, as a sudden chill hits your back. You're about to twist around, when an action placed upon you causes you to try and scream.

You feel a hot breath, _his_ hot breath on the exposed nape of your neck, and a sudden wetness on the shell of your ear; only after shuddering like a hypothermiac in the Antarctic do you actually realise that 'Oliver' had the audacity to come up and _rather sensually_ lick you.

You find yourself a slight bit more than 'freaked out' at this.

Infact, you are so beyond 'freaking out' that you begin to wildly thrash your arms around in response to the action, and scream until your lungs feel pained. Arthur doesn't seem at all pleased by this.

"What are you doing?" He shouts as your yelling begins to subside a little.

"He, uhm..." You have no real idea how to explain what just happened.

"What? He's still out there? Did you... Well, how the hell is he still out there?"

"H-He..."

"What? What did he do?"

You gulp. "I'm not sure, but I think he just licked me."

There is a small pause as the Brit seems to try and comprehend your words. Then, you feel him shuffle while carrying your body. You feel him lean his head backwards and whisper as quietly as he can. "He's toying with us. You may have to get off. For your safety."

"B-But I can't walk!"

"Trust me." He quiets down even more, and slowly slips your leg out of his arm, and your feet down to Earth. Careful to not put any pressure on your hurt knee, you decide to put all pressure onto the 'good' leg. He can't see you, so when you are far down enough, he somehow manages to maneuver around so that he can still support you by your hips as you descend, and only lets go only when he is assured that you are safe. He then leans in to your ear, still slightly moist from before, to talk to you. "Miss, I apologise for what I'm about to do. But my next move is very experimental, although uses a theory I devised up from Olivers actions from before. It may or may not further our risks of survival, but it's a risk I'm going to have to take."

You shrug and quietly reply. "Do what you must."

You cannot see him, but you feel a thankful pat on your back, and hear him say with an obviously louder tone. "Well, sweetheart! This may be our last moment together! But before I go into glorious battle to save _my princess_, I must bid you farewell, for I may not return! Darling! I have loved you since the moment we met!"

You nearly start laughing at his bizarreness. Where was this pompousness coming from? And the... Sudden, and almost sarcastic, 'love confession'?

"However, I must thank you also! You saved me from the danger that was the demon bunny from hell! While getting yourself hurt along the way! So, I must do the goodbye in the most bittersweet of fashions! With a true lovers' kiss! Oh, as often as the birds tweet, you are my heart sweet!"

You are not sure how to react to what the hell he is saying, and are kind of glad that the darkness is covering your reaction. You aren't expecting a hand to cup your chin, but his soft touch somehow prevents you from wriggling away. You suddenly feel a rising heat rush to your previously cold face as a pair of soft lips press quickly across your forehead, and then your left cheek.

Suddenly, you hear a small clap, and a blinding light flashes on in the room. You squint a bit, and then widen your eyes to catch sight of Arthur still pressing himself against you. His emerald eyes suddenly open as he notices that the light has been turned on, but he looks back at you and gives you a wink with one eyelid. Almost a 'thanks for your help'.

"Oi, _you._"

You both turn to face the other way simultaneously as you hear the animal-like growl. You can't help but to grimace as you see the other Arthur's enraged face. When he had been outside, he had looked incredibly tired and worn out. However, this was a completely different.

His cheeks were puffy and red, as if he had been crying. Although this, freckles that dotted his cheeks were still visible. You remembered him having bags underneath his eyes previously, however, these had been joined by 'panda eyes', which you could only guess had been caused by the rubbing of eye-based makeup, or by the apparent tears slowly rolling down his cheeks; either way, the circles emphasised the now almost glowing blue and neon rose to a point it looked somewhat psychotic. His light eyebrows were now knitted with fury, and his teeth actually bare in a feral fashion.

In all honesty, he looked terrifying. But a part of you felt an odd sorry for him.

Arthur finally coughs a little, and replies. "You've shed some light on the situation! I am entirely grateful!"

"Get your grubby hands off of my property, you insolent fiend! You... Thieving disgrace! You! Y-You... _Git!_!"

You feel your eyes widen at the last insult. 'Oliver' never said... 'Git', did he? No matter how mad, he never got close enough to swearing before. His choice of wording left you shocked, as well as Arthur, who didn't move a muscle until the other raised his hand to reveal _your meat cleaver_ in his grip.

"She isn't yours. She never was, and on my watch, she never will be." The Brit protecting you says back, trying to keep cool. "I know it may be hard for you to understand this, but the trials that you have put her through are unethical and immoral, and are now going to get you into a lot of trouble."

"Look at her." He hissed back. "She's wearing what I have decided to give her, she has been living on what I have been provided her with and she has put her life in my hands. She belongs with me, and to me. Don't you, poppet?"

You're about to reply when you hear another loud 'bang'. However, whatever bullet Arthur just shot at the madman seems to have caused no effect, despite Arthur having shot him at point blanc. You peer across at the other man to see that he is wielding the oversized knife with the biggest grin on his face.

"_Shit._" You hear Arthur mutter. "_That was my last bloody gumball._"

You stare up at him. "...You were shooting stuff with _gumballs?_Tell me that you are kidding."

He gives you an odd look. "Of course I was. It isn't as if I had any bullets to work with."

"B-But... You can't put gumballs into a normal handgun! They probably won't even fit in!"

"Who said it was a 'normal handgun'?" He asks, with an odd twinkle in his eye before glaring at the other man, listening in to your conversation. "Judging by the fact that you just deflected a 'bullet' with that thing, I take it that it isn't a 'normal' knife, either?"

You thought that the grin couldn't get wider. You were wrong. He replies without answering the question, with a sentiment more pleased than anything. "It's funny, isn't it? She tried to kill you with this weapon. It would have been easy, no matter how strong you are. I guess that I'm going to have to finish the job, aren't I? Can't say I don't _want_ to."

You stare at the dagger as he raises it even more, and remember how swiftly it had cut into the rabbit. 'Oliver' must've seen you looking, as he gives a dark smile and looks at you. "Give me just a second, sweetie. This'll just be a quick job."

What happens next is literally a blur. You weren't too steady on your feet because of the unequal distribution of weight due to your damaged knee not allowing you to stand properly. However, as the pale-ginger man dashes at you both, meat cleaver raised, Arthur takes the second to throw you out of the way. You cry out, startled, as you feel a sudden pain when your body is hurtled away as involuntarily slammed against the wall in a fashion you could only call harsh.

You hadn't quite expected Arthur to be that strong, but what you now expected to soon become bruises over the parts of your chest and arms that had impacted the wall proved otherwise. Your kneecap is stinging in pain as you slowly move yourself down and into a more manageable position. You hear a few yells and shouts behind you, as you assume that there is some form of conflict between the two happening behind you.

You painfully allow yourself to slide down and against the wall, almost screaming in pain as your hurt knee nearly bends. You scrunch up your eyes and take deep calming breaths when you successfully get your backside safely onto the floor, and open your eyes to observe what has happened.

Arthur yells out and almost loses footing as the freckled man delivers an angry and frustrated punch square to his jaw. He stumbles backwards, but manages to dodge a dangerous swing of the cleaver by pure luck. He quickly bends down and moves forward as the other man recovers from lashing out with the weapon.

You can't help but to wince as you see Arthur thwack the butt of his pistol against the attacker's forehead. Wounded and howling in pain, the madman doubles over, his non-weaponed hand covering the top of his head. Taking the advantage of this development, Arthur sends a quick kick to the others' stomach, sending him backwards.

The meat cleaver is suddenly out of the other Englishman's grip as it flies to the other side of the room with a 'clang'. You notice a small smirk on the blonde's face as he bends down and pins down the body of his fallen down counterpart by pressing his body on top of the others' and pinning his shoulders down to stop movement.

"You've lost, Oliver." You hear the agressive mutter. "Quit fighting already, you miserable wanker."

You observe the angry glare emanate from 'Oliver' to Arthur as you see him manouver his hand to his pocket. The glare turns into another stomach-flipping smile as you hear the other 'Arthur' reply back with a voice equally quiet. "_My name is not Oliver._"

Suddenly, you see Arthur's jade eyes widen as he yells out in pain. You feel your heart begin to race even more as you see the gentleman get thrown off the other as if he was a ragdoll, groaning as red substance was beginning to spread as a patch in his otherwise neat, green uniform. The other man quickly gets himself up, and stomps his foot onto Arthur's chest as hard as he can. You swear that you can hear a discrete 'cracking' noise emanate from the action, but find yourself wincing more at when he leans over to pull a rather small, and familiar looking knife out of Arthur's side.

_No, no, no!_

You can't watch this. You almost try to pick yourself up and somehow try to stop what you suspect is going to happen next, however, you realise that due to the fact that you are fairly immobile, you aren't quite going to be able to launch yourself at the two.

And then you see it.

In the corner of your eye, you catch glimpse of the meat cleaver. Of course! Why didn't you think of it before? If you got your hands on it, you still had a chance to escape!

The question, however, was how exactly you were going to get it into your grasp. The cleaver was out of reach, and you couldn't walk.

You stop when you hear a pained yowl from the other direction.

"You think that I'm going to let you mercifully die by just one small stab? You're quite incorrect, Artie. You brought this onto yourself, you know. I told you to keep your hands off my things. I did, didn't I? I even made the line clear by having a small go at your hands! But no. No! You just wouldn't listen! And then you... You kissed her!"

Time was of the essence. You had to get the cleaver before he finished ranting.

Slowly, you push your upper body to the ground, trying to keep yourself quiet and unnoticeable at the same time. It hurts, and you nearly make a noise as you begin to crawl with your upper body and your legs absolutely still. But it's tolerable, and even if not that, completely and utterly necessary.

"I guess that I'm going to have to make the line that you've crossed a bit more clear, aren't I?" You convince yourself not to look, keeping your eyes on the prize. However, that doesn't stop you from hearing a shriek from Arthur as 'Oliver' does something and carries on. "How'sabout I clarify that you should keep your fingers off of my precious possessions by chopping your hands off? Would that make it clear?"

"F-Fuck off!"

You find yourself only a few feet away from the weapon. You know you have to move quickly, or else.

"Maybe amputating you is too nice? Plus, I'd waste a lot of blood that way. Not that I really mind the mess, but I was wondering what England flavoured cupcakes would taste like." You stop at that. What did he mean by 'England'? "I mean, I'd try and make some by myself, but throughout my _adventures_ I've found that people don't grow things back! Plus, you'd probably be as bitter as your personality."

"G-Get away from me!"

You reach as much as you can with your hand, and feel an overwhelming happiness when you feel your fingers clasp around the cleaver. You breathe a sigh of relief, and drag the weapon closer to you.

"I guess I could be somewhat merciful. I mean, I guess the fact that she called you here meant that your trespassing wasn't all your fault. Still, there can't be both of us, can there? I'm afraid I don't like sharing my toys."

"Wait, what?" Arthur half-yells, half-winces in pain. "Y-You realise that t-the confession was a trick, right? You can't be foolish enough to think that I-I... AUGH!"  
He tuts. "No use lying to get yourself out of this one. I don't like liars at all, you know."

You finally find yourself twisting to take another look at the scene, and nearly want to look away. It's almost like the position with Arthur pinning the other a few minutes ago, except much bloodier and reversed. Much to your horror, the blond man has more large patches of red on his front, and a nasty looking cut on his cheek. He's writhing and struggling, but with an expression oddly more agitated than scared or pained.

You figure that his tolerance for pain must be of superhuman levels.

The other Arthur is turned completely away from you, focused on torturing the living daylights out of your ally. With horror, you see the knife trail close to the gentleman's neck, cutting into the skin and causing the underside of his rather pointed jaw to suddenly become slick with crimson.

Without thinking it through, you find your body trying to gather itself up on one knee, but this hurts. Hurts so much that you almost flop to the floor and begin to bawl again. But shaking, you ignore the pain, and try to focus on getting yourself of the floor.

"However, of all things in this odd universe of ours, the only real thing I want of you, is to see you gone. You're not exactly human, and if I wanted to, I could lock you up somewhere rather hellish and torture you for days on end. Make you weak. Break this incomprehensible 'heroic' act of not even shedding a tear when I'm cutting you all up and make you plead for my mercy. But no. It's up to me to be the nice one, isn't it?"

"Y-You wouldn't know niceness if it stung you on your arse."

"Now, now. Those are pretty mean words for someone who's lying under my weapon. Listen up, I'm going to be _nice_ and not make this hurt too much. I cannot be bothered to deal with your whining. And I hate whiners."

With a shaky breath, you lean forward in your stance. Your whole body is aching with fatigue as you take a desperate step forward, the pain increasingly keeping you from collapsing from the exhaustion of it all. You need to keep walking, do whatever you can do to save Arthur, right?

And then you realise that you're directing yourself to kill the madman.

That is the only way you'll save yourself and Arthur, and escape his clutches. By killing him with the weapon he ironically gave to you in the first place. You looked about with desperation, hoping that it wouldn't come to this.

"Let me give you the usual treatment, and ask you. _Any last words, dear?_

Well, it certainly had. You're mere feet away from the crazed Brit. A swing of the cleaver, even a small one, could probably kill him from your position.

But the real question is...

_Can you bring yourself to kill your captor?_

**CHOOSE TO GO TO CHAPTER 13 IF YOU CAN BRING YOURSELF TO KILL HIM**

**CHOOSE 14 IF YOU CAN'T.**

**GOOD LUCK ON YOUR ADVENTURE **


	13. Chapter 13

You grab the cleaver, biting your lip. Hard.

The very idea of outright killing someone was far beyond you. But it had come down to  
this.

Crying out, you sprint at the two men, wielding your cleaver like a large, bulky  
sword. 'Oliver' briskly twists around, confused and startled by the noise. He probably  
hadn't quite expected to see you on your feet, or stumbling towards him with weapon  
in hand. Blue eyes quickly widening with fear, he gives you a look similar to that of a  
frightened puppy.

But it is too late. Screaming, you swing the meat cleaver at the man's back, and before  
anyone can say or do anything, the large knife is sunk deep into the area just below  
his shoulderblades. He opens his mouth to scream in pain, but instead, no noise comes  
out. You feel a pair of once sparkling blue eyes search your face, his expression hurt.  
Pained.

Betrayed.

"I t-thought you loved me, poppet..."

You can almost pinpoint the exact moment his luminous eyes quickly turn dull, and the  
man collapses to the ground, meat cleaver still cutting into his back.

You now feel a new gaze upon you, watching as you pant with silent tears trickling  
down the sides of your face. You meet Arthur's emerald eyes, and examine his face.  
His thick eyebrows are raised with concern as he now stares at the still body in front of  
him. He has blood splattered all over him, mainly noticeable on his face, where a large  
cut went from his left cheekbone to under his chin. The blood is also joined by sweat  
trickling from his forehead, which he aimlessly tries to wipe off with the back of his  
hand as he brings himself to say the words, "Blimey... Y-You killed him."

You're about to reply when you feel your legs painfully buckle and let way, and your  
body collapse as you faint from mental and physical fatigue.

************

_Pitch black._

A neverending void of darkness.

How long have you been here?__

How did you even get here?

Everything hurts. Both physically and mentally.

But, at least the pain kept you knowing that you were still alive.__

Then again, why would you want to be alive if you were completely alone?

...Or were you?

You hear sobbing. Pained and grieving. Familiar, as well; that to a horrifying extent. You somehow step into the void and search for the noise.

But you can't. It's somewhere too far away. Someplace you can't reach.__

"Hello?" You call out, voice echoing through dark matter.__

The sobbing stops briefly. "...Poppet?"

You feel a sudden chill. A shiver runs through you.

"Sweetheart, is that you?"

No. This was wrong. Why of all people was he here?__

"You're there aren't you?" He sounds angry. Agitated. "Hiding from me. Why can't you face the man you killed, eh?"

You panic, fear and shock racing throughout your body. "Get away from me! You're dead!"

He gives a melancholy laugh. "You'd know, wouldn't you? But I'm still here. And you're still mine. My toy. And I'll come find you when nobody can protect you. Like now."

Heart racing, you take a step back. "No! Stop it! Go away!"

"Come here, darling." In the darkness, you see a pair of luminous two toned orbs. "I'll take good care of you. I promised you that beforehand, didn't I?"

"No!"

And suddenly, you're not in the void anymore. In fact, you have no idea where you actually are.

As you take a few deep breaths, calming down from what you now recognise to have been nothing more than a terrifying nightmare, you take a further look at the surroundings.

You are in a regal looking bed with crisp, white sheets and in a fairly large room. The walls are painted a plain white, but seem to have odd patterns in them, accentuating the fairly expensive look.

Actually, everything looked expensive. The dark, wooden bookshelves lined with books upon books that all somehow perfectly fit the shelves. The golden, metallic rim of the windows that exposed early morning air into the room.

And the large, soft armchair at the far end of the room, that Arthur was currently sleeping in.

You're surprised to see him looking so... Well.

Granted, he has a large bandage around his chest, wearing a green sweater vest rather than the uniform. But last time you laid eyes on the man, he had been half-dead.

You try and get into a more comfortable position, but you feel a horrible pain at your now-bandaged kneecap as you do so. You pull a face, seeing that you probably couldn't walk up to him, and decide to do the next best thing.

"Arthur!" You give a shout. "Wake up!"

He stirs a little, and slowly opens his eyes. He ends up turning to you, and giving you a small smile. "Good morning, miss. How are you feeling?"

"I... Uh, I'm living. As are you." You look around again. "Where am I? How did you get me here? Where is... He?"

He gives a polite smile, and pushes himself out of the chair, groaning. "I'm glad to know that you are still alive. It makes the paperwork a lot easier. As for your location, I'd like to finally take the moment to welcome you to my humble abode. It may or may not be your thing, but I'm afraid you'll have to stay in here while you recover and I get things sorted out with the government."

"Government?" That sounded rather serious.

"Indeed." He nods. "Just some paperwork to tell them what's happened. Let's hope they believe me, huh? As for how you got here, I carried you. Taking the train, of course. You were out cold after collapsing when you... Killed him."

You took a harsh breath. You had killed him, hadn't you? You find Arthur gazing over you with concerned eyes.

"You regret it, don't you?" He asks. "Killing him."

You aren't sure how to respond. Split between yes, for everything he had done to you and no, because... Because it didn't seem right, him being dead. "...I don't know. I kinda wish I could just forget about it all."

He seems to brighten up at that. "I figured you might say that. Be back in a jiffy."

Before you can ask him anything, he briskly paces out of the room. You have no idea how he manages it with his injuries. You don't even want to remember what the other Arthur had done to him with the knife.

He suddenly comes back into the room with a small bottle in his hand. "I've been messing around with this stuff ever since we came back. You were asleep for the whole train journey and a full day. It should wipe your mind of absolutely everything that happened in the previous week or so. Not sure of how much you'll remember, as this is just an experimental dose. It's a concentration of the usual mix, with a couple of extra things thrown in. I also charmed it so that you couldn't forget too much, as that'd be bad..."

You stare at him with disbelief. Was the thing in his hand really something that'd somehow make you forget? But how? It wasn't possible, was it?

"Arthur." You give him a serious look. "Who are you, really?"

He blinks. "What do you mean? I'm Arthur Kirkland-"

"I know your name." You interrupt. "But... Who are you? What are you? You look almost fine, was it not for the bandages, but you were stabbed and your ribs... Cracked under his foot. You replaced a slingshot and somehow turned it into a pistol that could shoot gumballs."

"I... Uh.."

"You look like you're in your twenties, but you were supposedly alive when the death penalty was here. You should be seriously hurt, and possibly immobile, but you somehow carried me here. Oliver said he wondered what 'England' flavored cupcakes tasted like. Not Arthur. England."

"Look. I, Erm, well..."

"Who are you, Arthur Kirkland? What are you?"

His wide eyes day around the room as he tenses and bites his lip. He then clears his throat and gives you a knowing smile and wink. "I'm the absolutely invincible British gentleman, miss. Now, I suppose time is of the essence. Think about it, this could be a merciful way to reach peace of mind, and although I'm not sure of exactly you had to go through, I heard you having a nightmare about him while we were in the train. Didn't sound very good. I think this potion loses it effect the longer you hold it off. What was the date of the day you were captured?"

You think for a moment. It seems like it was so long ago, and you honestly have to scour your brain for the information. But when you tell him the date, he seems moderately pleased.

"Seven days. It should work. I hope. I can create a cover story for you. Not that I have much of a choice. Can't let the public know about Oliver, can I?" He laughs bitterly and carries on. "I'll get you admitted to a hospital. Don't worry about any costs. I cover free healthcare. You won't remember a thing of what's happened. You won't remember me, but I really doubt you'd want to."

He raises the potion and looking down, asks the question. "So, miss, do you want to forget?"

You stare at the the vial in his hands and think of what it'd be like to forget. Forget everything. Let go of the memories of the psychopath that... Loved you, and now haunted your dreams.

Forgetting the killing and blood.

And the fucking cupcakes.

Perhaps if you forgot about your experience, you'd be able to one day eat cupcakes or liquorice again. Or pet a cute bunny without fearing that it will try to eat you.

"Yes." You finally nod, much to his surprise. "I'd like to forget."

"Right..." He shakes the bottle, the viscosity of the liquid similar to that of honey. "Before I give it to you, I must say that there are a few drawbacks. First of all, I've never given someone this kind of concentrated dose, the effects are estimated and may be unpredictable. But failure is of a low probability."

"I'll live, right?"

"One can hope." He smiles. "You've made it here, haven't you? Congrats on not dying, by the way."

"Couldn't have done it without you." You reply, taking the bottle in hand. "Do I just drink this, or what?"

He nods. "The whole thing. You'll feel a slight burning sensation, but fall asleep. And when you wake up, you'll forget the past week."

"This seems dodgy."

"I've got you this far, miss. Trust me."

You sigh, then quickly unscrew the top. "Here goes." With one quick motion, you tip the mixture into your mouth, taking a moment to allow it to trickle down.

It has an odd taste. One you can't quite place as to what exactly. Oddly exotic and sweet to begin with, but very intense.

And then it begins to burn.

"S-shit!" You cry out as the fiery tingles overwhelm your throat.

"Shh..." You feel an affectionate pat to your forehead. "Just try and close your eyes and sleep."

You bite your lip and try to endure the hurt. You can't deny the sudden drowsiness slipping over you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

You hear him try and say something comforting again, this time a whisper.

"Thanks." It's barely audible. And toy can hardly keep your eyelids open. "For saving me."

And then...

A restful darkness.

************

"How are you feeling this morning?" The nurse is pleasant as she hands you breakfast, though it was obvious her mind elsewhere.

Not that you mind. You only have an operation left until you get to leave this hospital until you get to leave. The building was actually very pleasant, but having been here for a week after you recovered from a collision with a Rolls Royce and banging your head on the sidewalk so hard that you had completely forgotten the incident, it felt relieving.

Doctors were mainly worried about your kneecap, which had been completely dislocated and whether you had gained concussion. Being stuck in the same, clean room as you recovered was close to unbearable. At least the staff was nice.

You suddenly spot a small pill on the breakfast tray. Curiously, you look up to the nurse. "Uh, why is this here?"

"Doctor K wanted you to be relaxed before you go into the operating room. They'll knock you out anyway, so it's a bit useless, but I have to urge you to take it anyway."

You shrug and swallow the pill. This hospital business would be over and done with soon, anyway, right?

Once you finish eating, she puts the plates back on a tray and walks away as another nurse comes in with a wheelchair. "Come now, it's time for your operation. Ready?"

You nod as you shakily get put into the chair. She wheels you out, and pushes you past numerous, identical rooms, medical personnel giving you looks as you passed them. She suddenly turns into a room, and a few other members of staff help you up and onto a medical table.

You feel rather nervous, but are assured that you will be "in good hands", "safe" and "well treated".

You feel a light pinch at your arm, and are told to count backwards as they are "injecting you with a sedative".

Wanting the experience to be briskly over, you follow instructions with a drowsy yawn.

**************

You feel lightheaded as you slowly open your eyes, unaware of surroundings as you regain your full consciousness.

Is the operation over? But... You're still on the table.

Not only are you positioned on the table, but you're strapped down to it with strange, metallic and clinical looking restriction bars. They are covering all of your limbs and your midsection, restricting movement.

"_Oh, I can't decide whether you should live or die..._"

Singing? From where?

Your stomach does a small flip as you try to examine your surroundings, and see the tidy hospital room from before messed around. Scalpels and equipment thrown on the floor, and stains of dark red are splashed on the walls.

"_Oh, you'd probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry. My heart feels dead inside, it's cold and hard and petrified. Lock the doors and close the blinds... we're going for a ride..."_

Where was it coming from? And what was going on?

Scared out of your wits, you cry out. "Hello? Who's out there?"

The singing trails off, and you hear footsteps on the hospital floor approach you.

"What's going on?"

You hear panting at your other side, and with cold sweat, turn your head to face a pair of mysterious, yet... Oddly familiar blue eyes that had a shocking ring of neon pink in them.

"Hello, poppet."

The end?


	14. Chapter 14

You take an angry, threatening step towards him, raising the cleaver above your head. This ought to be easy going, right? He had been so dismissive about the prospect of killing you, and had probably killed a fair amount from what he had hinted at, right?

You take a step towards him, eyes clenched shut.

_I-I can do this! Just hit him!_

"Do you not realise how much I love you? I'm doing this all because I want to have fun with you! But, no! You just call me names and... And it isn't nice!"/i

You stop dead in your tracks.

_"I've seen so many people just start crying tears and refusing to fight back. And it is so annoying! I just want them to shut up and keep playing! But no! They just keep crying and crying and then, I can't help but to get angry and... When I get angry, it isn't good for anyone, I suppose. But no, not you, poppet. You're always fighting back! You're always being so brave and trying to actually... Do something to save yourself. And I... I like that, you know? That nitty-grittyness that you've got when you fight to save your life. It's not ladylike, and it's weird... But I like it."_

You stare at the man in front of you, in the now rather bloody pink shirt and about to unmercifully kill the man that had done so much to save you. You catch Arthur's eye, who is looking at you with desperation, wanting you to go ahead and do something.

And you are. You are about to go ahead and stab the psychopath until you yet again hear his voice in your head.

_"So, I'm here for your entertainment, then?"_

"You always were, poppet. Always. But, a boy cannot stop his foolish little heart, can he? Lust turns into love faster than you'd actually expect."

The more you thought about it, the more you realise that the man you called 'Oliver' somewhat treasured you. And in his own, incredibly crazy and mad way, was doing all this to... Protect you?

You nearly jump as your meat cleaver hits the ground.

_When did I let go of it?_

"No!" Arthur screams at this, green eyes wide with horror and desperation.

And then, in a flash, you see 'Arthur' raise his small knife and bring it down to impact with the delicate flesh of the blonde's neck with an aggressive force. You look away, gagging as you hear Arthur screaming in pain and flailing around to try and stop the other from his attacks. But you fear that it is to no avail, as 'Oliver' doesn't stop, and instead pulls the knife out and punctures the windpipe again and again. You can hear something splattering on the floor, and

And then it's all over. Out of the corner of your eye you see 'Arthur ' finally stop, panting hard to catch his breath. The air in the room seems to still as you find yourself slowly turning to him, wishing that you hadn't as you now get a full view of the Englishman's corpse. The area under his jaw was completely cut up and covered in crimson, and sloppily cut open with willy-nilly scars.

You want to fall down and cry. This was too much.

Arthur was dead. Murdered. And you could do nothing about it.

You stay still as you see the murderer stand up,shaking. His sleeves were dripping in the fresh blood, splattering on the floor as the over-saturated fabric of his pastel pink dress-shirt could absorb no more into it. He slowly twists towards you, still trying to catch his breath.

You take a silent step back as you see the state of his front. Before, you could only imagine the description, 'blood covered', but this was real. Terrifyingly so. His whole front was dripping with the substance, it had even splashed up to his face.

However,as you caught sight of his eyes, confusion stirred inside of you. They were different. Oddly so. Rather than the usual glowing of pink and blue, his eyes are dim. Pale blue, and oddly... Sad? No, that couldn't be the case.

His eyes meet yours, and you stare at one another for a few brief moments. He then looks down at the cleaver and only now seems to register that you're supporting your own body up. He looks back up, and produces a soft smile on his lips.

"Guess that's the end of that, poppet."

You suddenly feel your unstable knees give way, and your body collapse onto the solid floor. The last thing you remember is the unnerved stare of the sky blue eyes.

**********

(*Unknown time later*)

Blue.

The human colour.

It was blue, wasn't it?

It seemed natural. Real.

_Material._

Always the colour blue.

Except for when it was pink. But there was almost never anything beyond the two-tone spectrum. The food. The walls. The table. The teacups.

You feel an odd tickling at your bare feet. Arthur told you that somebody bad had hurt you and your knee was still in healing, but you had secretly began to try and walk when he wasn't around. But you didn't like the fact that it was a secret. You didn't like keeping things from him, it felt wrong.

It was wrong to lie to someone you loved, wasn't it?

Or at least you think you love him. That's what he had told you. He always loved you and you always loved him, but then someone from outside had come to try and take you away. The outsider had nearly won, but you had been saved by Arthur in the nick of time.

And unfortunately, you had hit your head, and forgotten quite a lot.

And by quite a lot, that was practically everything.

You peer down, lifting the hem of your neon dress to see one of your bunny friends brushing up against your foot. He did that either when he wanted to eat something (sometimes it was flesh he craved for, so you often had to be careful with your friends) or wanted to be picked up and patted.

You assumed the latter, and softly slid your hands underneath the belly of the creature and softly began to play with the fluffy fur of the rabbit. Twitching his nose, he wriggles about on the top of your skirt-covered thighs and suddenly prods his retractable claws into them. It doesn't hurt that much, but enough to make you stop petting him, frown and tut.

"Stop that."

He looks into your eyes, and hisses. You quickly resume petting the animal, as you don't want to take chances with making it angry. As nice as the small bunnies were, they could get quite vicious around both strangers and anything below their standards of niceness. Not that it troubled you too much, as you knew how to be nice.

You had to. For him.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Your heart almost skips a beat as you feel an oddly familiar blade press into your neck and his hushed voice mutter the greeting. He had a habit of sneaking up on you and pressing you into potential harmful situations such as these. The knife was his favourite, it seemed, as it gave him the most power and control, and still allowed him to whisper whatever he wanted into your ear.

He pushes your hair out of the way with one hand, and then glides it over to push your body back slightly to leave trails of hot kisses on your exposed neck. You find yourself gasping as he pushes the blade in a bit more, not enough to break skin, but still digging in with a fair amount of uncomfortableness.

He stops the act and carefully runs his hand through your hair, causing you to suddenly shudder. He must've felt you do so, as he gives a low chuckle.

You feel him step away from behind you, and smoothly glide his body over to the other side of the small table you were sitting at. He places a usual tray down.

It was always the same. You woke up, and then had a tea party with Arthur and then did whatever you wanted to do as long as you kept yourself within the boundaries he had set. Sometimes he would plan you an activity, but whatever happened, the day always started with tea and his (rather delicious) cupcakes.

If you could call it 'tea'.

He poured the steaming, ruby liquid into two teacups from the large teapot. The cups may have been pretty when they had been new, being made of white China with a floral pink pattern through the middle. However, the white China had grown dull and the upper rim of the cup had numerous cracks.

He passes you the cup, and puts a generous cupcake on a petite plate. As usual, the frosting on the cake was pink and blue. Decorative, yes, but always the same two colours. He takes his own cake, and with a smooth roll of his pink tongue, licks the icing clean off.

Your eyes meet, and his sultry gaze indicates that he is waiting for you to eat. He was always very insistent on finding out your opinion on his cooking, whether it be a simple dish, or not. You pick up the cupcake and bite into it, indulging in the sweetness.  
You feel rather parched, so you pick up the piping hot 'red'-tea. You smell the strange aroma of it, and strangely, it reminds you of something. That you cant quite remember.

You take a sip of the crimson liquid. It's sweet and sugary, but has an off aftertaste.

_"Arthur..."_

"What was that, sweetheart?"

You had no idea where that had come from or why you had said his name. It was almost as of you hadn't been addressing your Arthur, but someone else.

"N-nothing." You shake your head, but put the cup down. "I can't drink this anymore. Sorry."

He frowns, and opens his mouth to say something, but then closes and sighs before smiling. "It's alright, sweetie." His expression turns rather gleeful, usually pale freckled cheeks rather rosy."I can give you something else to drink a bit later, if you want."

You can't help but to find his smirk rather attractive. It's a coy thing, hinting that he wants to be closer to you, but is waiting for a more intimate moment.

You raise a brow. "Sounds interesting."

He gives a haughty giggle. "Oh, dearest, you make me laugh. "

You can't help the small grin, slight heat rising in your cheeks. The bunny on your lap seems to have fallen gently asleep, digging its claws into the ruffles of your skirt. "I try."

His smirk returns as he slides his hand to touch yours, which were still wrapped around the teacup. You find yourself looking up to see his eyes peering into yours, pink and blue.

Just like everything else in this place.

"So, any luck remembering anything?" He asks, voice curious and slightly apprehensive.

You think for a brief moment. Sometimes, things would come into your brain. Colours that were different; the most frequent being a deep green. Other times it would be something else, a sensation of nervousness or anger that seemed so familiar, yet so distant.

And then there was the odd guilt. You weren't sure where it had come from or why it was in your mind, but it was. And it was overwhelming.

Enough to almost make you want to cry.

You shake your head in mild disappointment. "Not yet. But I will! Soon!" You give him an earnest look, trying hardest to please him. " ...I promise."

He looks distant and discontent for a kooky moment, before facing you a smile that was borderline relief and... Almost cruel? "It's alright, sweetie. I know you will. I'll love you even if you don't. Forever."

The words send odd shivers down you.

"Forever?"

"_Forever."_

_/End._

_**AN: **_

_**OH GOD**_

_**I DID IT.**_

_**I ACTUALLY FINISHED SOMETHING**_

_**HOLY SHITE.**_

_***…SPAZZES THE FUCK OUT. ***_

_**THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT. **_

_**I NEVER WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GET THIS FAR WITHOUT IT.**_

_**By the way, I am doing a Q and A panel project for this fanfic. For info on how you could get a question answered in a video, please refer to my dA page (sockseevil).**_

_**Thanks so, so much! **_

_**I love you all!**_

_**Socks**_


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